


The Importance of Being Oblivious

by scrunchycolfer



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Multi, Mutual Pining, OT4, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:05:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrunchycolfer/pseuds/scrunchycolfer
Summary: Bones was used to being lonely, used to settling for what he had, and used to being agonizingly in love with three of his best friends. He also happened to be pretty oblivious. Perhaps that's why it all took him by surprise.
Otherwise known as: the story of how they finally got together.





	1. Stage One: Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first Star Trek fic, and I'm really not an expert, so please be gentle on any mistakes. The story starts along the AOS timeline, a little after the events of Star Trek Beyond, and is really just an outpouring of me mulling over the idea of this OT4. Enjoy~

 

Bones was often deliberately unaware of many of the social goings on around the ship. He liked to avoid unnecessary drama; it was ridiculous, interfering, and he never knew how to deal with the aftermath, whether positive or negative. In fact, when one of the young couples among the crew broke up and, two weeks later, made up loudly and messily right on top of one of the beds in his med bay, he swore to never again acknowledge the existence of relationships in the mayhem of space.

Perhaps, in hindsight that was what made him so oblivious when his own relationship drama began to brew.

But he excused himself of his obliviousness when it came to the lives other people, because there were some things he would always be very aware of. Hyper aware of. Some things which completely made up the extra space in his brain.

“Some things?” Asked Scotty, knowing smile on his face, and Bones realised he had been thinking out loud. “What kinds of things?”

The two of them were having a drink in a deserted little common area near the engine room: a cathartic tradition that had become fairly regular over the last few months. It had started on an otherwise average Friday, when Chekhov managed to get himself into hot water with five different crew members, and Jim, in an effort to run some damage control, had to skip on one of the many nights he spent hanging out with Bones. The doctor had been lucky, in the end, to find himself a new drinking companion. Scotty was hiding out to avoid drama among the crew in the engine room, who were fighting over Jayla’s choice of work music. Since then, when things got really bad (the ship was so often overrun with “he said this” and “she said that” and “they said _what_?”) he and Scotty would meet up for a chat and the company of a friend who understood the benefits of avoiding chaos (benefits which seemed to go far over the heads of their friends on the Bridge).

“Okay, maybe not _things_.” Bones told Scotty. “It’s more like I’m hyperaware of some _people_.”

Scotty took a sip of his drink.

“Well, I must say I thought it’d be a wee while longer before you had the courage to admit this out loud.” He chuckled. “Or perhaps I just thought you’d be a little more drunk.”

“What?” Bones blinked at him, and found Scotty looking nothing short of smug. “Are you _trying_ to be unnecessarily cryptic?”                                                                                                                       

“Nay, I’m teasing you, go ahead. This has been a long time coming.”

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“I think I can guess.”

Bones huffed. As if Scotty could know what he was talking about.

“You know what, never mind.” He said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, suddenly feeling grumpy. “I don’t want to tell you now.”

“Oh, Bones, come on.” Scotty laughed. “I’m sorry. Just tell me. You’ll feel better.”

“No way, not anymore. Besides, it would be breaking our agreement to create a drama free zone if I ever said it out loud.” Bones said stubbornly. “So just forget it. I’ll keep it to myself forever”

He knocked back what was left of his drink.

“Your giant crush on the captain has most definitely already broken your own rule of no involvement in relationships.” Scotty quipped. “So you may as well talk about it.”

Bones choked.

“What?!” He coughed, spraying alcohol all over the table.

“You weren’t getting up the courage any time soon.” Scotty shrugged, smug, and thumped him happily on the back. “I had to clear the air for you.”

“How on earth do you _know_?” Bones demanded, still sounding choked, and ending his sentence with an ineloquent splutter. Scotty slid him an extra glass of water before he answered, and waited for him to down it and calm his coughing fit.

“You aren’t completely subtle, lad.” Scotty chuckled, watching him recover. “As much as I hate to tell you.”

Bones groaned.

“Does _everyone_ know then?” He asked, setting down the water, looking mortified.

“I doubt it. Main reason I figured everything out is listening to all your complaining, and as far as I know, you haven’t been talking to the rest of the crew this much lately.” He shrugged. “Besides, you’re definitely not the worst. It’s Jim who can’t keep his crushes under wraps.”

“Jim doesn’t have crushes.” Bones shook his head. “He’s my best friend. He would tell me.”

Scotty looked at him for a very long time, almost as though he were entirely missing something, but Bones didn’t notice. He was busy refilling his glass with more liquor.

“We can come back to that another time.” Scotty finally decided. “But come on, your crush on Jim, you can rant about it if you want. Which I assume you do, since you brought it up.”

“I thought you didn’t like drama?”

“Oh no,” Scotty held up a hand. “I don’t like people trying to get me involved. But hearing about it? This is pretty funny, top class entertainment. Wait until I tell Keenser. I can tell him, right?”

“Sure, why not. He isn’t going to tell anyone else.” Bones looked at his friend, who was still beaming, and his voice turned to a deadpan. “I’m glad I can amuse you.”

“You’re welcome.” Scotty raised his glass in a mock cheer, unabashed. “So go on, enlighten me with the details.”

“Well, first of all, it’s a little more than a simple crush, Scotty.” Bones mouth twitched in a near smile. “We know each other too well for that. I _love_ him. A-and everything sort of comes back to him, you know? My whole life. Even in the academy, when we first met, things were special with us. We were best friends, easily, from the very beginning.”

Scotty nodded, and Bones braced himself to drop a bit of a shocker into the conversation.

“We, uh, used to make out too.” He said softly. “Sometimes.”

“ _That_ I did not know.” Scotty said, sounding mildly impressed.

“Well yeah, no one really knows.” Bones tried to seem dismissive. “It was just an occasional thing, and it’s not like we still do it.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. I-you know how Jim is with relationships. He hasn’t really changed in that regard. Back then we _both_ just wanted to have some fun, but now… now I’m not looking for a fling anymore. And I’m not ready to ruin a friendship with feelings.” Bones rolled his eyes. “Besides, he’s too damn committed to this ship to think about committing to anything else.”

“As if that’s not one of the things you love about him. He’s a bloody good captain.”

“I know.” Bones sighed. “You could tell he was headed for leadership, you know? Even when we were breaking all the rules. Not that we’ve necessarily _stopped_ breaking rules.”

Scotty laughed at that.

“Luckily this whole crew would follow him to the ends of the earth.” He said.

“They would, wouldn’t they?” Bones sighed again.

“You certainly have, if your hatred of space is anything to go by.” Scotty pointed out. “Do you think you loved him even then?”                                                                                                                                           

“Maybe I always sort of loved him.” Bones admitted, talking into his glass rather than looking at Scotty. “He’s just, you know, he’s _Jim._ It’s ridiculous how good looking and charming he is. Almost offensive, really. And he has those bloody blue eyes.”

“Are you going to do anything? Or just-”

“Damn, Scotty, I don’t want advice right now.” Bones snapped. “I’m just here to unload.”

“Okay, sure.” Scotty gave up. “Then let’s talk about the rest of them.”

“The rest of them?” Bones face looked red all over again, even in the low light.

“Well you referred to being hyperaware of _people._ As in, multiple people. Are you telling me who the rest are, or am I making my guesses again?”

“I think talking about Jim has been enough for tonight.” Bones said, seeming exhausted.

“So we leave Uhura for another day?”

“How in God’s name do you-”

“Well, it makes sense. She’s ridiculously intelligent, beautiful, tough. I even remember one time I saw the two of you sitting complaining about Spock and Kirk together. You had some real chemistry. I also saw your face after she left to get back to work.” He paused, smug smile on his face again. “You _like_ her.”

“Perhaps.”

Scotty laughed.

“Come on, you said they were people you were hyperaware of. All I have to do is think about the people you get totally on edge around, and I’ve got my answers. There are three, right? No more than that?”

“There are three.” Bones admitted, eyes narrowed.

“Okay, so we’ve got Jim. We’ve got Uhura-”

“But she’s in a relationship,” Bones said abruptly. “And I highly doubt her and _Spock_ of all people want to make it an open one, so I’ve got to forget it.”

Scotty eyed him.

“That’s a pity, since Spock is last one on your list, isn’t he?”

Bones swore, downed the rest of his last drink, and pinched the bridge of his nose at the burn.

 “It is Spock.” Scotty said happily. “That’s fantastic.”

“Maybe from where you’re sitting.” Bones groaned.

Scotty laughed _again_.

“My God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two interact without getting in a fight.” He looked delighted. “That must be incredibly frustrating for you.”

“Goodbye, Scotty.” Bones sighed, moving to stand.

“Ay, don’t be embarrassed.” Scotty said sympathetically, catching his arm. “I do feel for you, alright? It’s a real tough spot you’re in.”

“No kidding.” Bones sighed, looked over at the clock on the wall. “Come on, let’s go get some sleep before tomorrow.”

Scotty walked him to the door, and Bones asked one last thing of him before he left.

“Just, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“I won’t, lad.”

Scotty watched Bones walk away, and chuckled one more time under his breath. The poor doctor really had no idea what was going on around him. Totally oblivious. Scotty was almost tempted to go and actually meddle in the situation, but luckily, as far as he could tell, meddling wouldn’t be necessary. The odd little quadrat seemed to be building toward a conclusion lately, all longing looks and frustrated tension. They would sort it out themselves soon enough.

Scotty only hoped he’d get a good play by play over a drink with Bones later.

…                                                                                                

Coincidentally, that very same night, Nyota also addressed the topic out loud for the very first time. She was sitting with Spock in their shared living quarters, almost ready to head off to bed for a good sleep before they reached the outer section of the nearest planet system. Her boyfriend, full frown on his face, was in the middle of a long winded complaint about his most recent run in with Doctor McCoy. Of course, after the Enterprise’s recent crash, their new journey hadn’t yet taken them into serious trouble, but Spock managed to pick arguments even at the best of times. Whether they were with McCoy or with Kirk, Nyota was well used to hearing about them by now.

“Can I be honest with you?” Nyota interrupted.

“Of course.” Spock answered. “I always want you to be honest with me.”

He looked puzzled, and she was sure he would be even more confused in a moment, so she reached for his hand across the table, giving it a soft squeeze in her own.

“I think there may be a reason that Leonard bothers you so much.” She said. “And, come to think of it, I believe Jim has been bothering you just as much, in his own way.”

Spock blinked at her.

“Uh,” he frowned slightly. “I have always had my disagreements with the two of them.”

“Yes, but you don’t _dislike_ them, do you? You mostly enjoy your debates.”

“I respect both of them greatly.” He said simply. “As much as McCoy would rather pretend that I do not. We _have_ been through a lot together. It was only logical to form certain bonds, just I have bonded with other members of the crew.”

Nyota changed track a little, trying to work out how to actually present the topic without embarrassing her boyfriend completely.

“Yes, but-” She bit her lip. “Okay, well, I remember what you were like before we got together, when you were first realising you had developed deeper feelings for me. I remember your obvious respect and admiration, and how much you enjoyed it when I stood up to you.”

“I would hope so, Nyota.” Spock answered, bewildered. “Our romantic connection is very important to me.”

“Well,” she pointed out. “You haven’t reserved that behaviour for me alone, my dear. In fact, you behave that way around two other people.”

Spock froze in his seat, looked her in the face, bewildered.

“Are you still talking about McCoy and the Captain?”

“Yes.” She said, matter-of-fact, watching his reaction.

“I do not-”

“Yes you do.” She interrupted gently. “And it’s _okay_ that you do. I’m not mad. I’m very fond of them too.”

Spock looked at her for a long time, barely a sign of expression on his face. But she knew him better than that, and the underlying thoughtful confusion in him made her own features soft and affectionate. She could see the slight crease in his brow, the focused look of his eyes that meant he was trying to read what kind of response she was expecting, as if he were worried she was secretly angry with him. Finally, he seemed to accept her sincerity.

“I suppose-” he stopped himself, and Nyota was almost amused to see him actually struggle to find words. “I never really considered what my feelings toward them might be-”

“You never realised you were attracted to them?” She asked.

Spock was quiet for a while.

“Attraction is… diffcult for me. It’s hard to decipher. It isn’t logical.”

“I know, honey.” She said. She liked to use pet names for Spock when they were alone. He had mentioned to her once that they made him feel warm inside: certain and comfortable with their relationship, with the fact that she wanted him and he could let himself be vulnerable in wanting her. She saw him relax, just a little.

“You may be right, Nyota.” He tipped his head to one side. Her thumb brushed soothingly across the back of his hand. “Are you telling me you feel the same way?”

“Yes,” she said, settling to comfortably into the admittance. “And I wanted to make sure you really did like them the same way I do before we talk about what we want to do about it.”

“Oh.”

“Do you need more time to think?”

“Yes, I- I’ve never thought about _this_ before.”

“That’s okay.” She assured him. “That’s fine. You can take your time. There really isn’t any rush. We are stuck here together for a while, after all.”

 “I believe that presents us with a small problem, Nyota.” Spock said slowly, and that thoughtful look on his face turned a little dismayed. He turned worried eyes to her. “Now that you brought all of this to mind, I will not be able to stop thinking about it. You do realise I have to talk to both of them on a daily basis?”

“I’ll enjoy watching you get flustered.” She teased.

“Please, Nyota,” Spock objected, trying to look composed. “I never get flustered.”

His cheeks were still flushed that faintest hint of green, and her responding laugh was like bells.

“Of course not.” She leaned across the table and planted a firm kiss on his lips. “Now, come on my love, let’s go to bed.”

Spock stood up and followed in her wake, still dazed by the new revelation.


	2. Stage Two: Contact

 

The next day, Jim Kirk stood, looking over Sulu’s shoulder, as the Bridge crew analysed the changing conditions in the outermost edge of the planet system they had just entered. In an otherwise fairly exciting part of their mission, the day’s data contained nothing particularly interesting. They had reached nothing much beyond a simple asteroid belt, so while they begin to analyse planets to catalogue their basic properties, part of Jim’s mind was elsewhere.

In fact, part of Jim’s mind was on Spock. Because Spock was the one member of the crew whose mind was _never_ elsewhere, even when discussing the most boring things, and yet somehow he seemed oddly distracted.

Jim turned for what must have been the tenth time, and looked toward Nyota instead of toward the perplexing First Officer. He very much hoped that something in her expression might give away what was bothering her boyfriend. As always, though, she stared at her screen with laser focus, beautiful, poised, and unattainably perfect, hair pulled right back in a tight ponytail. The sight of her almost distracted him, until he remember what had first caught his attention, and turned worriedly back to Spock.

And Spock was looking at him.

“Is there a problem?” He asked.

Spock swallowed.

“I see no potential crises arising within the next few hours, Captain.” He said, and though his tone was even, Jim was almost sure there was a strange green flush in his cheeks. “All appears to be calm.”

“Right, okay, thanks.” Jim nodded, and Spock turned back to his screen almost reluctantly, like he wasn’t done with Jim yet.

Jim began to chew on his lower lip as he paced across the ship a little way, stopping at Chekhov’s side so that the young man could go over the state of the warp drive with him. He took almost nothing in, and he had never been more thankful to have a crew he could trust so thoroughly to keep on top of things all by themselves.

Behind him, he could _feel_ Spock’s eyes on his back.

He itched to turn around, to walk to Spock’s side and demand to know what was going on with him. The crew probably wouldn’t blink an eye. It wasn’t _usual_ for him to be a little preoccupied with checking up Spock, whether asking his opinion a little more often than he needed to, or just absently watching him. He had been in love with his First Officer for a very long time.

Admittedly, he had been in love with a few people for a very long time.

 “Captain?” Chekhov asked.

“Sorry.” Jim shook himself. “What were you saying?”

“Mr Scot has sent me a summary of the preferred gravitational conditions for when we rest the ship in the orbit of a planet later this week. He needs as close a match as we can find for him to accurately tweak and test the engines before the next leg of the journey. So while we scan these planets, we should search for one with…”

Chekhov continued into a rather long explanation, and Jim tried to look like he was listening. He noticed Sulu exchange an amused smile with a couple of the science officers seated nearby, and felt immediately embarrassed, only just managing to hold onto his appearance of focus.

Jim often wondered if anyone had noticed the way he felt about Spock. Or Nyota. Or Bones. He knew he could lack subtly. He was too passionate, too honest to really try and hide affection. There were plenty of things he _could_ hide: a specific kind of bravado he often put on for the sake of the crew. But his love for the people around him was not one of the things he knew how to shut away.

Yet, despite making no strong attempts to conceal those feelings, he hoped no one had put the pieces together fully. It was embarrassing to be a leader who was in love with three different members of his crew. Not to mention upsetting, knowing he could do nothing about it. He couldn’t mess with the bond between Spock and Nyota by trying to insert himself into their relationship. He was sure Spock still found him irritating despite their friendship, and certainly found the idea of being with him illogical. He was sure Nyota would brush off his advances as she had so many years ago, probably disappointed that he hadn’t grown up enough to accept her rejection. And he certainly couldn’t risk alienating Bones with unwanted feelings. No matter which way he turned, it seemed he would have to be happy to be alone. But really, he didn’t mind. Being around them was enough. Keeping them safe was enough.

And, in the interests of keeping them safe, Jim decided he really did have to work out what was up with Spock.

He turned again, in the middle of Chekhov’s sentence. He couldn’t help it.

What he was faced with this time confirmed his worst suspicions. Spock must be sick. The half-Vulcan’s face was an even deeper shade of green: the colour that rose to it when he got too warm, when he had just been running, when he was angry, or in pain: the colour of his green-blooded blush. It was jolting to see the change to his pallor, the intensity in his usually pale skin, when there was no prompting for it. Except, perhaps, a fever.

“Are you alright?” Jim asked him.

“I feel quite well, Captain.” Spock said, but there was a shake in the middle of the title, and then, abruptly, Jim noticed a shake in his hands to match.

“Spock.” He said, startled, moving to Spock’s side, a familiar sort of worry rising up in him at the idea that his friend might be in danger. “Are you sick?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nyota stand, her chair almost tipping over behind her, caught by another member of the crew before it could hit that ground.

“He did look a little off colour this morning, Captain.” She said.

Jim turned to her, and her face was impassive, looking at Spock. She stepped forward.

“Perhaps,” Spock began, and he really was incredibly flushed by that point. “It would be beneficial to the efficiency of the crew if I were to excuse myself for a few hours.”

“I think so.” Nyota agreed, already reaching for him. “You must be ill.”

“Yes, I do feel I may be coming down with some sickness.”

There was something odd about the inflection of Spock’s voice, and Jim began to worry at his lip again, biting down a little too hard, hovering as though he would catch Spock if he fell. Spock took Nyota’s arm as she reached for him.

“Nyota, you’ll take him to the med bay?” Jim asked, and Nyota looked a little surprised. He realised he had called her by her first name, though he usually used more formal titles on the Bridge. But he didn’t have time to worry about that at the moment.

“That won’t be necessary.” Spock argued, shaking his head. “I would prefer to avoid causing trouble for Leonard-”

“Bones won’t mind.” He insisted. “He’d be furious if he knew you were sick and didn’t see him. Besides, we can’t risk this being something infectious and taking down the whole ship. Go to the med bay, Spock.”

Spock looked like he was about to refuse. Jim opened his mouth to say something else.

“I’ll take him.” Nyota promised. “He’ll be fine.”

Jim nodded; there really was something so stunningly reassuring about her face. Then she placed a gentle hand on his arm, squeezed, and vanished out of the door, Spock leaning on her. It was unfair how easily she set him at ease.

Jim exhaled, composed himself, turned back to the rest of the Bridge crew with the largest smile he could muster.

“Okay folks, let’s pick a planet to stop on for the night.”

…

Nyota turned to Spock the moment they were out in the corridors of the ship, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Spock said, expression miserable. “I got flustered.”

Nyota’s face softened.

“Well, Jim was so cute I might just forgive you for worrying him so much.” She said gently. “But our real problem here will be giving Leonard a reasonable excuse for you being sent to the med bay.”

“I think he will believe that I’ve been feeling ill.” Spock said. “I expect being around him right now will make me blush as well, and apparently that is a convincing mark of sickness.”

“Mm, accompanied by your absent-mindedness and shaky hands, it was.” Nyota said.

“I assure you, I had no intention of making a scene-”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Nyota sighed. “It’s not your fault. We just… dug ourselves into a bit of a hole here. We might have to put in some work to made Leonard fall for this.”

“I feel as if this lie may become too convoluted.” Spock shifted uncomfortably. “If we didn’t get Leonard involved it would be easier to-”

“Spock, I gave the Captain my word to take you to the med bay. We can’t avoid it.” Nyota argued. “The only logical thing to do now is to make our story believable, or to tell the truth. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not quite ready for that.”

“You’re right.” Spock sighed.

“I know.” Nyota smiled, and took his hand. “So let’s try to make this work, okay? The tech won’t be easily fooled, so we have to actually get your temperature up. A quick soak in hot water perhaps? We have just long enough to make it to our quarters for that before anyone gets worried. And we’d better sort out our story. I think for starters you should be making light of your illness when I take you in. If you were really sick, that’s what you would do….”

…

Bones didn’t have much to do that day. He was tidying the med bay, moving things on shelves, finding a few old remedies he had forgotten about in the back of cupboards. He jumped when a message beeped through to his computer.

“Doctor McCoy?”

He put down a roll of bandages and walked to the screen.

“I’m here.”

“Just wanted to let you know, Lieutenant Uhura is bringing First Officer Spock to see you. They should arrive any moment.”

“Oh.” Bones tried to school his expression. “Right, thanks for the heads up.”

He wanted to ask what it was about. Perhaps Spock had been injured? But they had only just entered the new planetary system, and as far as he knew no one had left the ship, so he couldn’t have hurt himself too badly yet. Maybe he was sick?

The message cut off before Bones could actually query, so he sighed and left it alone. Spock and Nyota would be there soon anyway.

They took a lot longer than he expected, but finally the door slid open, and they two of them walked in.

Spock’s face was the deepest green Bones had ever seen it, flushed with blood. It was identifiable immediately to the doctor, who was probably more aware of the biology of the half-Vulcan than anyone else on the ship. Nyota, standing at Spock’s side, was regarding her boyfriend with concerned eyes.

“What the hell?” Bones demanded.

He realised Spock was leaning on Nyota, and dashed forward almost immediately, taking Spock’s arm.

“Lie down.” He instructed.

“Really, Leonard, this isn’t bad enough to-”

“Lie down, honey.” Nyota added, and Bones mind went nearly blank, hearing her refer to him like that _right in front of him._

Spock did as he was told. There had, after all, always been something magical about Nyota when she spoke in that calm, self-assured way of hers.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bones asked Spock.

“Nothing bad.” He answered, though he looked even greener than before.

The doctor, clearly annoyed, turned to Nyota instead, indicating for her to explain rather than her stubborn boyfriend. With one hand, while he listed to her, he brought up the file on Spock’s medical history to the screen in front of him.

“Spock was getting flushed and overheated on the Bridge today,” Nyota said. “And I know this morning he felt a little light headed when we first got out of bed. It seems he’s still quite dizzy.”

Bones hummed in acknowledgement, reached out for the thermometer function on his computer, and waited while it took Spock’s temperature.

“You _are_ running higher than usual.” He murmured, looking at the figures. “And according to these measurements, your skin is incredibly moist.”

Nyota tensed a little.

“Does that mean he’s sweating?” She asked.

“I suppose so. Quite extensively.” Bones flicked a button on the computer, then went and ran an absorbent cloth under cool water. He passed it to Nyota. “Hold this to his head for a moment.”

“That is not necess-” Spock started to say.

“Shut up, Spock.” Bones snapped. “You’re sick.”

Spock frowned, quiet, as Nyota pressed the cloth to his forehead.

“I’ll let the Bridge know you’re here.” Bones said.

“Yes, please do.” Nyota replied. “Jim told us to check in after we arrived.”

Bones opened up a new screen and when the Captain answered his beep almost immediately, he gave him a quick update on the situation: high temperature, sweating, dizziness. He suspected an infection of some sort, and hoped there was nothing more sinister behind it. When he was finished, he signed off and turned to face Spock and Nyota again.

“I feel a little better already.” Spock said, and Nyota squeezed his hand. “Now that I’m lying down.”

“That’s good.” Bones said. “Stay there.”

He pulled over a chair for Nyota, and then turned back to his screen.

“I need to ask you what symptoms you’ve been experiencing.” He explained. “Please answer honestly, because if any of the following apply to your situation, your health could be in great danger. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Leonard.”

Bones grunted, satisfied, and began.

“Do you have a headache?” He asked.

“No.”

“Muscle pains?”

“No.”

 He continued to rattle off a list of possible symptoms, while Spock answered a quiet negative to each one.

“Alright.” Bones said at the end. “I can conclude based on your answers that it’s probably nothing serious. That gives us a little more time to work out what might have caused the sickness instead. There is a chance you could be experiencing an iron deficiency, though it’s doubtful with all of our diets regulated as they are. Before I resort to a blood test, I just need to know if you can think of anything that may have given you some sort of bacterial infection? Even something as far away as last week, when we stopped at the base in-”

“Yes.” Spock said, so calmly the answer sounded rehearsed.

Bones looked surprised.

“Well, that’s good.” He said, real relief in his voice. Which he quickly covered with a frown, with a gruff outer layer. “Makes my job easier. Take this pill.”

He pressed another button and, with a soft whizz, the needed medication popped into a dispenser at his side, passed quickly to Spock with a glass of water.

“I’ll have to monitor you for a while to make sure you have no reaction to the medication, and then you should be free to go. I’d like you to rest in your own quarters for the rest of the day, possibly even for tomorrow. And Nyota can contact me if your condition grows worse.”

“Thank you.” Spock said.

Bones turned away, quickly typing a report into his computer. As soon the doctor was no longer looking, Spock handed the pill to Nyota, who quietly pocketed it while he drank the water.

Bones returned to his tidying, making sure not to eavesdrop as the couple whispered to one another in the corner of the room, not that he could have heard them properly if he tried. They were very quiet. Occasionally, he glanced up at them, and each time they were inexplicably already looking his way. It set him on edge. He began to drop things, shut his fingers in cupboard doors, and he willed himself not to blush.

Eventually, when he looked up to catch their gaze for what felt like the thousandth time, he cleared his throat.

“Do you need something?” He asked.

“Sorry.” Nyota said quickly. “Just, how long do we wait here?”

“Oh, um,” Bones had sort of forgotten every bit of medical knowledge he possessed. He looked at the clock. “Just t-ten more minutes.”

The number was pulled right out of his ass. It was only as he returned to his work and forced himself to relax that he realised he could have actually let them go five minutes ago. He debated telling them to just leave, and then looked up in time to see Nyota give Spock a soft kiss.

He promptly dropped what he was holding, felt like his heart had plunged with it, and swore as several empty test tubes shattered inside the box.

“Are you okay?” Nyota asked.

“I’m fine. Damn heavy box.” He excused himself, dumping the cursed thing on the bench at his side.

The couple exchanged another glance, too much meaning in each set of eyes. They were acting really _really_ weird. Bones frowned slightly. What the hell was going on? And, come to think of it, why did Spock look so much better already, all perked up and alert? It should still take him another day of resting before the pill really kicked the illness. Almost as if he were… faking?

“Hey, how come it took you two so long to get here?” Bones asked, trying to decipher what felt so off about the situation.

Spock turned to Nyota, hoping she would have an excuse ready to fly. She looked at him, looked at Bones, looked back at him.

“We got… distracted.” She said at last.

“Okay.” Bones said, suspicion in his voice. And then, suddenly, as if something dawned on him: “ _Oh_. Okay.”

Nyota managed to supress her smile as he turned quickly away, far more flustered than Spock had ever been. There was a clear implication in her words about the nature of the distraction the couple may have found along the way, and she knew the simple hint was the one thing she could have said to totally discourage Bones from asking further questions. It was also a fun thing to say to treat herself to his adorable, overwhelmed, embarrassed reaction.  

Spock was looking at her dubiously, as if her were judging her for her choice of answer.

“Oh please,” she whispered. “It was a good idea.”

“You will have to explain _why_ when we are alone later.” Spock said evenly, glancing across at Bones.

The poor doctor, still out of earshot, was consumed with trying to contain the reaction he was having to the very _idea_ of Spock and Nyota _distracting_ one another, and he was glad he couldn’t hear whatever they had been whispering to each other since. He was kind of scared that, if he ever overheard them talking intimately, his reaction would turn into something a lot less internal and a lot more embarrassing. Starting to blush, he looked up at the clock again.

“You can both go.” He announced, relieved to finally get rid of them. “Remember, no work for the rest of the day, alright? And call me if you get dizzy or overheated or-”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Nyota promised.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spock said, such earnestness in his voice that Bones couldn’t help the twitch of an almost-smile.

“Thanks, Leonard.” Nyota added.

The two of them left the room. Things were silent and strange in the vacuum left by their absence.

“Fucking weird.” Bones muttered under his breath. “So bloody fucking weird.”

It he didn’t know Spock any better, he would say the usually rigid rule-follower had just faked sick to spend a day with his girlfriend.  


	3. Stage Three: Plans

Spock and Nyota finally got back to their quarters, Spock still very embarrassed, and Nyota, apparently, very amused. She began to laugh the moment the door closed behind them, a startled overwhelmed sort of sound.

“Well,” she snorted, leaning against the wall. “You three are the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Nyota, that was a humiliating experience for everyone involved.” Spock said dully.

“Not for me.” She smirked, and then reached up to take his face in her hands. “But, sweetheart, it’s okay. You only have to pretend you’re sick for another day. It’ll all be forgotten soon.”

Spock frowned.

“I don’t like lying.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She lead him into the other room, where they each folded into their usual chairs, Spock looking more tired than he ever did after a full day of complicated work. He rubbed at his temples with forefinger and thumb, letting out a long sigh.

“I really am sorry, honey.” Nyota said carefully. “I didn’t expect you to be so distracted by everything.”

“It isn’t your fault, Nyota.” He promised. “I was simply overwhelmed. Those emotions had been right under the surface for a long time and somehow entirely escaped my notice. I was unready for such an… onslaught.”

“I wish there had been an easier way for me to bring it up.”

“It is _not_ your fault.” Spock repeated. “I never expected to be someone who loved so many people in such an intimate way, and it became hard for me to reconcile. I-I couldn’t stop thinking back to the times I nearly lost each of them, or the idea of losing them now. It felt-”

“Is it the same feeling you have when you think of losing me?”

He blinked.

“Yes.” His voice was quiet. “Yes, it is.”

Nyota immediately deserted her own chair and, crouching at his side, pulled him in for a kiss.

“I love you, Spock.”

“I love you too.” He said, face vulnerable in a way it only ever became when they were alone.

He looked so lost. She wondered how long he had been able to ignore this side of himself, this part of his emotions. He was always good at compartmentalising. But really, in the end, she knew it was better to get these things out in the open, to help him find a way to live his life for more than just duty.

“We can work this out together.” She assured him, stroking her thumb along the side of his face.

“Hopefully I can hold myself together for long enough.” Spock still looked so embarrassed.

“My darling.” She said, full of fondness. “It’s _okay._ ”

“How do you manage such confidence?” He asked her, but she ignored the question.

“I’m serious, Spock, you shouldn’t be so critical.” Her smile turned a little teasing. “You must have noticed Jim is _abnormally_ good looking. You _really_ can’t blame yourself. ”

“He is pleasing to look at.” He agreed, and his face darkened in that distinctive blush again.

“And Bones was as adorable as ever.”

“Yes, his reactions were very endearing.” Spock said, unable to stop a small smile. “He gets very protective whenever someone seems sick.”

“And grumpy.” Nyota laughed.

“I like his grumpy side.”

Nyota nodded, and because she was still crouched in front of him, climbed up to sit on the arm of his chair instead, carding her fingers through his hair, relaxing him a little more.

“Did today help you to work out what you want, though?” She queried softly. “Whether you want to do anything?”

“Yes.” Spock was quiet, considering, looking up at her, open and honest and beautiful. “I want to be with them. Now that I am so aware of my feelings for them, I would not wish to continue without at least attempting to see if they might be interested in us in return.”

“That’s wonderful.” Nyota said. “I feel the same way.”

“Nyota, I cannot help but wonder-” he broke off, eyes downcast, tentative.

“Yes, honey?”

“I cannot help but wonder if they would ever genuinely care for me the same way. I have no doubt they could easily fall for you, just as I have, but I know I can be… abrasive. It would not surprise me if they had no romantic inclination toward me at all.”

“Oh no, oh Spock.” Nyota’s expression was soft. “Of course they do. They already love you.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, with that inquisitive tilt of his head that she loved so much.

“They like us back. _And_ they like each other.”

“Really?” Spock looked taken aback. “How do you know?”

 “It wasn’t hard to work out,” she said. “I mean, Jim can be a bit transparent when it comes to those things. He stares at you, he seeks out your thoughts constantly, and values your opinion above almost everyone else’s. He can hardly stand the thought of losing you.”

“Really?” Spock repeated again.

“Yes, really.” She smiled. “And he loves me, too. For one thing, there’s clearly attraction there. He made a pretty big effort to flirt with me when I first met him.”

“I believe you found it very annoying at the time.”

“He was insufferable.” Nyota agreed. “But, you know, there was still something kind of fun about it. And he’s a different guy now. I _know_ him now. We’ve grown so much as a team and as individuals and… I love him.”

Spock let out a breath, and he looked so meltingly relieved to hear the words, as if he’d been waiting for them without realising. As if they made him feel a little more complete.

 “He hasn’t done anything about it.” Spock said. “If he really has liked us as long as you say.”

“Think about it.” Nyota prompted. “Would Jim really make a move?”

Spock was thoughtful, and then he nodded.

“No, he would leave us alone.” He concluded. “He respects each of us too much, and I think he would be very aware of his seniority over us on board the ship. I doubt he would wish to make us uncomfortable.”

“Leonard would be the same. He wouldn’t say anything.”

“Yes, I imagine Leonard would be scared to admit any sort of feelings for anyone, let alone for one of us.” Spock sighed. “He is reluctant even to let me tell him how much I respect him.”

“He certainly does frustrate you.” Nyota had a familiar twinkle in her eye, and Spock couldn’t help the quiet huff of laughter that escaped him.

“So are we going to ask them if they would like to join us?” He asked, looking almost excited now.

“If it’s what you want?”

“I do.”

“Then we absolutely will.” She said, beaming. “We’ll have to decide how we want to propose this though. I think we should start with Jim…”

…

Nyota knocked on Sulu’s door a few nights later. He answered almost immediately.

“Hi Hikaru, sorry to come by,” She said, realising that he was already in his pyjamas, and looking soft and tired. “I thought you wouldn’t be in bed yet.”

“Oh, I’m not.” He explained, ushering her in while the door slid shut behind her. “I just finished talking to my family, actually.”

He pointed to the screen in the centre of his quarters, where a video call had just hung up, and an icon showing a picture of his husband and daughter had taken its place.

“How are they?” Nyota asked, lighting up at the mention of them.

Hikaru was one of her closest friends among the crew, and she knew how hard he found it to be away from his family. As she expected, he launched easily into an explanation of his husbands latest adventures with their little firecracker of a kid. It was a while before they finished talking, and Hikaru seemed to remember that she had come over unexpectedly, probably for a reason.

“So how come you stopped by?” He asked.

“Oh.” Nyota held out the small book in her hands. She had borrowed it off Hikaru a few weeks ago, a very old tome he considered one of his most treasured belongings. “I wanted to return this.”

“Thank you.” He took it from her, and set it on his shelf. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much.” She said. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. And I hate to ask a second favour so soon, but there’s actually another reason I’m here. If-if it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you would be willing to swap shifts with me on Friday?”

“That might work.” He said, considering. “What time are you rostered on?”

“Oh, it’s the shift just after yours.” Nyota explained. He looked confused. The ship wasn’t exactly going anywhere, and it was admittedly odd that she might be occupied late on Friday evening when she would be free for the shift right before.

“Why do you need to change?” He asked.

“Nothing important. Spock and I want to talk to the Captain alone, and he won’t have much free time this week, but I know that evening only you and Spock have been assigned to the bridge with him, so we might find some time then.”

“Well, yes, we only need three crew members on the Bridge to monitor a still ship.” Hikaru said, shrugging. “I think I’ll be fine to trade shifts. I have nothing else to do that evening.”

“Thank you so much.” Nyota said, maybe smiling a little too bright, because her friend suddenly looked more interested.

“What are you talking to the Captain about anyway?” He asked.

“Nothing important.” She repeated, but damn, Hikaru knew her too well for that.

“Is this about-” He broke off, looking hesitant. “Is this at all related to what you told me about your, um, your feelings for-”

“Yes,” Nyota sighed. He raised his eyebrows, obviously wanting more information. “Okay, look you can’t tell anyone about this.”

“I’ve kept the rest of it a secret.” Hikaru pointed out, referring to the things she had confessed to him over the last year or so, the growing connection with her three boys that she had explained to him after so many nights of talking about books and interesting scientific developments dissolved into deeper conversation.

“Yeah, you have.” She sighed again, leaned against the wall, and bit her lip. “Well, I finally talked to Spock about it. Turns out I was right, and he likes them as much as I do, which really was obvious but, still, you know how nervous I was.”

“I remember.” He said, looking sympathetic.

“So we want to try it, we think.” She explained. “A polyamorous relationship of sorts. We just have to ask the other two.”

“How fantastic.” Hikaru beamed, and he looked so happy for her she almost wanted to laugh. Her favourite thing about this ship was how deeply the crew had bonded: her space family.

“We’re asking Jim first,” She said. “On Friday night.”

“If that’s what you’re using my shift for, I’m very enthusiastic about giving it up.” He said conclusively. “Nyota, I really hope it all works out for you.”

“Thanks, Hikaru.” She pushed off the wall, dusted off her dress. “Now, I really should go.”

“Don’t forget to update me after Friday, okay?”

She laughed.

“I won’t forget.”


	4. Stage Four: First Addition

 

By Friday, Jim was still watching Spock more closely than usual, on edge, ready for the First Officer to collapse into illness at any moment. It was true that Spock was still behaving differently, but the Captain could no longer put his finger on exactly what it could mean. There were moments when Spock’s cheeks flushed with colour again, moments when he seemed close to absent-mindedness in a way he never had been before. But no illness. No obvious signal for medical concern.

Even Nyota was… different.

Jim kept checking her for signs that she was worried about Spock as well. Yet she didn’t seem to be. She even smiled more often than usual. Of course, most people may not have noticed that, but each smile she shot him always felt particularly significant, and he was very aware of their increasing frequency.

“The ship has hit the outer gravitational sector we were aiming for, Captain.” Sulu reported.

“Very good.” Jim shook himself out of his thoughts again. “Pull her up and let her fall into orbit. We’ll have to stay there while Mr Scot tests the engines. If all goes smoothly, we should be able to move off very soon. Send a message to the engine room now, Uhura, and tell him he can begin in five minutes.”

“Yes, Captain.” She said.

Jim waited for both tasks to be completed, standing patient and serious, staring out the window. Sulu easily brought the ship to a stop, working with the planet’s gravity to bring them into place, and Uhura completed the call to Scotty very quickly. In fact, both of them almost seemed eager to get the whole thing over and done with.

“All finished, Captain.” Sulu said, turning expectantly toward Jim.

“I am too.” Uhura added.

“Right, thank you.” Jim spun on his heel and took his place in the captain’s seat. “Those of you who aren’t rostered on tonight can go and have dinner. You’re dismissed.”

He adjusted the images on his monitor as they began to file out, adding an alert that would buzz to life if the ship began to drift. It was only when he finished that he realised Sulu had left with everyone else. He turned, mouth open to call him back, and found that Uhura remained instead.

“Lieutenant Uhura?” He said in surprise, thick eyebrows pulling up. “I thought I scheduled-”

“I traded shifts with Sulu.” She explained, crossing her long legs.

“Oh,” Jim said. “Did he have something else to do?”

“No, I was the one who requested it.”

The answer was deliberately elusive, and Jim was just slightly too disconcerted by the slight smirk on her face to dare ask for more information. He gestured to his screen instead.

“Sorry, but I think it’ll be a fairly boring shift. I doubt we’ll have much to do. Scotty has things sorted in the engine room, and we’re pretty much just waiting on his call, which I don’t expect for over an hour.”

“That’s okay.” Nyota said. “I don’t mind sitting here with you two.”

Spock smiled at her, and once again, the expression contained a most puzzling undertone, a smug sort of secret passing between them. Jim knew his responding bewilderment was perhaps a little too obvious, but his companions appeared to miss it. Instead, Spock cleared his throat, and abruptly returned his attention to Kirk.

“Explain to me the route we plan to follow in the next stage of our journey, Captain.” He requested, and he stood from his chair in that precise way of his, straightening his uniform as he moved forward. Nyota stood up as well.

“Of course.” Jim turned back to his screen, pulling up a map for the other two to see over his shoulder.

They came to a stop behind him so close that it made the hair prick up on Jim’s arms. And then, unexpectedly, unnecessarily, Spock’s long fingers gently grazed his back, coming to rest just below the nape of his neck. And Nyota’s followed, her hand curled over his shoulder.

Both leaned down to look at his screen with him.

He began to give a good coherent answer to Spock’s inquiry, but embarrassingly enough, he found himself rambling far more than was normal, the heat of those touches burning distracting unforgettable shapes right through him. He may have loved both of them a long time, and was well used to keeping the full extent his feelings from their notice, but this moment already felt very different from the many others they spent together. For one thing, both Spock and Nyota had been behaving strangely, their demeanour enough to set him completely on edge. For another, they were _alone,_ just the three of them, and with very few of their usual distractions. There was nothing much to take his mind off just how _close_ they were.

And then Nyota’s hand began to move, careful and slow, warm weight drifting from his shoulder to the small of his back. At the same time, she leaned in. Her eyes were still on the screen, but the movement felt deliberate, and it revealed her stunning profile, the elegant sweep of her neck. Jim swallowed.

And at that exact moment, Spock began to stroke the small space of skin exposed above the neck of his shirt, the steady smooth brush of his thumb.

“So then w-we- uh, plan-” Jim’s pointing finger, tracing their path across the map, began to shake. He withdrew it quickly, let it drop, trying not to make his sudden nerves too obvious. “Are you two okay?”

He tried for a smile, one of his disarming confident grins, hoping to lighten the mood. Instead, it trembled a little on his lips and both of them turned their eyes to his.

“I do not assume to speak for Nyota, but at this moment I would estimate both of us to be in perfect health.” Spock said.

“Right.” Jim laughed a little. “Sorry, I just-”

Nyota looked at Spock again, unreadable question in her eyes. Spock nodded.

“Yeah, okay, there’s definitely something going on.” Jim jerked up out of their reach and spun to face them, hands up in front of himself.

He had no range of movement, back pressed against his own control panel, but at least now he could see both of them in full. And they couldn’t touch him in that distracting way.

“Spit it out you two.” He said. “What’s happening?”

“Sorry, Jim.” Nyota said, and his name on her lips, as usual, felt like a squeeze in his chest. She looked worried. As did Spock, in his own way.

“We had no intention of alarming you. I apologise,” said Spock.

“I’m not alarmed.” Jim said, denial pointless, but automatic.

Nyota laughed.

“Seriously, Jim, we’re sorry.” She said. “Maybe we should have started with the question…”

“Ask away.” Jim prompted.

Again, Nyota and Spock exchanged a glance before either of them said anything.

“Jim,” Nyota said at last, meeting his eyes, though Jim glanced at Spock before settling back on her again, slightly unnerved by the focused attention in both of them. “Do you like us?”

Jim laughed a little, face scrunching.

“Uh, yeah?” He said. It should have been an obvious answer, considering how many times he had risked his life for the whole crew. As if he could be harbouring any kind of secret dislike.

Spock supressed a sudden unexpected smile.

“Nyota,” he said softly. “I told you Jim would misunderstand.”

 _Jim._ The name, again, produced too strong a reaction inside the Captain. There would always be something enchanting about the easy familiarity of it, compared to the protocol of their day to day interactions on the ship.

“Yes, I suppose you did warn me.” Nyota was also smiling like she couldn’t stop herself.

“What she meant to ask,” Spock clarified. “Is not whether you simply _like_ us, but rather, do you like us in a manner that is directed beyond platonic emotion?”

Jim blinked in stunned silence for a moment before he could summon the ability to respond.

Spock’s question spun in his head, and he couldn’t quite believe he had actually heard him correctly. The closest Jim had ever come to confessing his feelings for his First Officer had been years ago, after Khan nearly tore them all apart, when he had embraced certain death to save the crew, very aware that he would slip at any moment from the world of the living. He was faced, too suddenly, all his walls down, with Spock’s beautiful, terrified face on the other side of a pane of glass. In that moment, he had almost explained, almost said everything. He had told Spock that there was a _reason_ he would do anything for him. Yet before he could finish the thought, pour out his heart, Spock had interrupted.

_Because you are my friend._

And Jim knew he couldn’t say a thing. On some level, Spock may have sensed where the confession was going, and whether it was a conscious decision to avoid the subject, he clearly wasn’t ready to hear that Jim loved him. Not in that moment. And Jim realised he agreed. To tell Spock then, when he couldn’t even touch him, and Bones and Uhura were somewhere else entirely, felt wrong. It felt hollow. An empty way to unload before he died, leaving turmoil in his wake.

So he had said nothing.

And now, suddenly, he had to say _something._  

“Jim?” Nyota asked carefully, and Jim experienced the horrifying realisation that he had been gaping at them blankly for almost a full minute.

She was still smiling at him, something sultry in the curve of her lips, the way her eyes were narrowed just slightly as she watched him. As always, she looked stunning in her uniform, all long legs and confidence. Beside her, Spock stood with his usual straight posture, but his head was just slightly tilted, an amused quirk to his eyebrows and earnestness written all over his handsome face.

 “Uh-uh.” And Jim, an occurrence so rare he often forgot what it felt like, was still lost for words.

Spock stepped closer, tentative, questioning.

“Do you perhaps want me to kiss you?” He asked, as if _that_ would somehow make things clearer.

“Do I want you to-” Jim couldn’t even finish his panicked repetition of the question. He cut himself off, looked wildly between them, and suddenly he was overtaken with dread, a new possibility occurring to him. “Wait, is something bad happening? Have you been compromised? Has someone infiltrated the ship and forced you to stay silent?”

They looked surprised, and he barrelled on.

“Is this a secret signal? Like an ‘act weird and he’ll get the point that something went wrong we can’t talk about’? Because there are better code words you could use if you wanted to-to-uh- let me know that something wasn’t right, you know?”

They were still stunned into silence, and in that moment it briefly crossed his mind that this wasn’t even _them._ Perhaps some other sort of infiltration. Shape shifters? Someone playing out his greatest desire to tempt him into taking the bait, and then most likely killing him. Or worse, capturing him and killing his crew.

And then he realised, if that were true, if this was the most secret wish of his heart, Bones would be there too. And Bones was not. They were alone.

And with so much unbelievable honest affection in their eyes.

“Jim, no,” Nyota said. “We’re serious. This is serious. We thought that you might like us and, well, we decided it was better to get everything out in the open.”

Then Jim actually realised what was happening- what must be happening. They weren’t propositioning him. They were just asking how he felt. They had, after all, only asked if he liked them, and then if he wanted to be kissed. They weren’t _offering_ anything. Just… getting everything out in the open.

Most likely so they, the kind and candid people that they were, could let him down gently.

 “Okay,” Jim laughed nervously, feeling his face flush and his world come down around his ears. After so long, it was time to spill his secret. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I like you.”

In strange synchrony, they both exhaled, relieved to have those words out there. And Jim just wanted to make their part in the whole debacle a little easier.

“But, you know, that’s fine.” He continued, and fuck, it really was a day for panicked rambling. “I’m fine. I know how to deal with it and I’m doing perfectly. You really don’t need to feel bad, or feel sorry for me. No pressure on you two, of course. I know it does sound awkward, but hey, we’ve lasted this long and-”

“Jim,” Spock interrupted. “I fail to understand the relevance of your current line of thought.”

“Well,” Jim amped up his overcompensating don’t-worry-about-me smile. “Obviously you guys don’t like _me.”_

Nyota’s expression melted.

“Oh, _Jim.”_ She said.

And then she stepped forward, hands on his face, and kissed him.

_Kissed him._

He was glad, really, that kissing came so easily, so automatically, or he was sure his response would have been one of stunned frozen shock. As if was, he managed to respond in kind despite his head spinning, eyes fluttering shut as he let her lead him, back hitting the console behind him, his hands shaking as he placed them gently, uncertainly, on her waist.

Nyota pulled back.

She was smiling, a rich, overwhelming, and impossibly beautiful smile.

 “He’s _very_ good.” She told Spock.

Jim’s mouth was still parted, amazed, and he looked over her shoulder to where Spock stood, so incredibly close, looking at him with such intensity he almost felt naked. It occurred to him that Nyota had just complimented his kiss, and he wanted to produce a witty response, but before he got his brain to work, Spock did that for him.

 “I assumed he would be.” He said.

Then Nyota shifted slightly to the side, and Spock stepped into the space, looking at Jim’s lips.

“May _I_ kiss you now?” He asked.

All Jim could manage was a faint nod.

So Spock kissed him. And Jim was immediately overwhelmed by how different and equally wonderful two kisses could be. Spock was all focus and precise attention, where Uhura had been teasing, playful. One of her hands was resting on Jim’s shoulder still, where it had fell after their own kiss, and the other was warm and comfortable on Spock’s back. Spock held Jim at the waist.

When he pulled away, his eyes were full of a burning intensity.

Jim looked between them both, and finally, a smile broke out over his face, cocky and confident and full of warmth.

“Fuck, guys,” he said.  “We’ll have to do _that_ again.”

Nyota laughed. Spock, at her side, was a little more serious.

“Would you like to be a part of our relationship?” he asked.

“Yes.” Jim said, matching Spock’s serious tone, because he knew it was important to the half-Vulcan.

“Then, if you wish, you could become a secondary partner to us both while you adjust to the dynamic between us,” Spock continued. “And we hope, in time, you might become a primary partner as close as the two of us have become.”

Jim knew he was blushing.

“Shit, Spock, you really lay it all out there.”

Spock looked puzzled at the statement.

“Nyota and I have looked into polyamory.” He explained slowly. “Like all relationships, I believe the key is honesty.”

“Honesty.” Jim echoed. “Makes sense.”

“We can give you some time to think.” Nyota offered kindly, stepping back a little, as if she were about to return to her station, leave Jim standing there, head reeling.

“No! Wait!” Jim grabbed her hand. “I don’t _need_ to think about this. I’ve wanted it forever. I actually… can’t quite believe it’s happening.”

She smiled.

“Then would you like to meet us for a date in our quarters tomorrow evening?” She asked. “Our breaks aren’t scheduled for the same time, but I’m sure Sulu would be happy to swap with you if you ask him nicely enough. He swapped with me tonight after all.”

“Did he know why?” Jim asked.  

“He is Nyota’s best friend,” Spock explained. “So she told him. He was supportive.”

“He _is_ a total romantic.” Jim said. “And we know he can keep a secret.”

“So it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

And then, suddenly, the smallest seed of doubt entered Jim’s mind – a potential spanner in the works – and his face fell.

 “Oh, and in the interests of honesty,” he said. “I’m kind of, uh, kind of into Bones. As well.”

They both grinned.

“We are aware.” Spock said.

 “Yeah?” Jim cringed. “I’ve never been very good at hiding those things.”

“It’s okay. We like him too.” Nyota added, and Jim’s face lit up so fast it was almost blinding.

“Really?” He asked. “How fantastic.”

“We thought we should ask you one at a time.” Spock felt the need to explain. “We figured it might be best to see if we can settle into a comfortable relationship with three of us before we ask Bones. Especially when stability is so important to him.”

“You’re right.” Jim said, and he was glad they had thought about this. His own mind still felt scattered. “Good plan.”

He couldn’t keep the ridiculous smile off his face, and it occurred to him, suddenly, that he had no idea how to spend an entire shift with them on the Bridge without exploding. Or just spending the entire time _kissing_ them. Or, no matter what, becoming entirely unalterably distracted from his actual job. He kind of needed a moment to freak out in private.

“Well,” He swallowed, adjusted his uniform, hoping he looked presentable. He would have to locate a crew member to replace him. “I guess I’ll see you two later.”

And he winked, and headed for the door.

Spock stepped halfway after him.

“While the ship is in the air,” Spock said. “Even when moored by gravity, it’s against protocol to have less than three-”

The Bridge doors shut in Jim’s wake.

Spock stood there, staring after him, frowning.

“Baby,” Nyota said, taking Spock’s hand. “I think you already broke protocol when you were kissing your Captain.”

Spock turned and stared at her, as though the thought was just occurring to him, and Nyota laughed. She had a happy, contented, almost elated air to her. So overflowing with a kind of languid, graceful ease that it brought to mind immediately the sight of her kissing Jim, so easily and with such emotion. Although it wasn’t logical, Spock suddenly found it rather hard to relocate his worry about the rules.


	5. Stage Five: First Date

 

The next day, Jim got ready in front of his mirror, feeling slightly on edge. It was strange changing into regular clothes when he knew he would still be walking about the ship, but it was technically allowed. Uniforms weren’t required while off duty. And this was a _date._ Jim wanted to look good.

He was allowed to wear the soft blue cotton t-shirt – the one that brought out his eyes and was just clingy enough to draw attention to his muscular form – and the comfortable jeans that perfectly hugged his ass. So long as he had a regulation shirt on hand _just in case_ anything happened, he was fine.

He slid the shirt into his satchel along with everything else he needed, looped the whole thing over his shoulder, took one more look in the mirror to touch his carefully mussed hair for the last time, and then went on his way.

Impulsively, he stopped by Bones quarters first. Partly because the two of them usually hung out on a Saturday and it would feel amiss not to see him at all, and partly, Jim had to admit, because he wanted Bones to see him in his outfit. He wanted to see the reaction.

The conversation between Jim, Spock and Nyota the night before had carried the implication that their dear doctor might be interested in the three of them. Or at least, Nyota seemed to believe there was enough chance Bones might return their feelings to plan including him in the future of their relationship. And, considering her correct analysis of Jim’s emotions, he trusted her intuition. He was curious to see if Bones behaviour might give anything away. Especially now that, for the first time, he was allowing himself to pay attention to it.

After pressing the ringer on the door marked “Leonard McCoy,” Jim leant against the wall, carefully casual in a way he had long ago discovered worked well for his particular kind of audacious beauty.

Bones answered with his face buried in a tablet in his hands, not even a glance in Jim’s direction.

“Just a moment.” He requested, one hand up as if to silence anything Jim might say, apparently absorbed in whatever he was reading.

“Damn, Bones.” Jim huffed. “Way to greet your best friend.”

He was hoping that might make Bones look up. But Bones did not.

“You’ll live.” He said dismissively. “I have to finish checking this report before you get started with your prattling.”

He turned from the door and vaguely gestured over his shoulder that Jim should follow him inside. Jim did so, of course, but he pouted just a little, annoyed. He pressed the button to shut the door behind himself, shifted from one foot to another.

With a small sigh, Bones switched his tablet off, dumping it on his table, and turned to face Jim.

“I thought you said you might not come over toni-”

The doctor broke off, mouth slightly open, eyes suddenly wide, locked on Jim in clear surprise. And then quickly, he frowned, furrows in his forehead, and scoffed.

“What the hell are _you_ wearing?” He said.

Unfortunately for Bones, it was too late for his grumpy cover to work effectively. Jim had seen it: that moment of astonishment, of appreciation. Of attraction.

“Like what you see?” He asked, striking a mock pose, hands on hips, but enjoying the way Bones watched the shirt tighten over his chest.

He had often played with this easy flirty teasing around his friend, but he had never before given himself pause to analyse how the other man actually responded to it. He had never considered why it always the increased the dry humour Bones liked to shoot his way.

“Like it?” Bones rolled his eyes. “’Bout as much as I like watching a self-important rooster take a perch with a view of his own reflection.”

Jim laughed.

 “Can I get the weird Bones metaphor translation, please?” He requested, balancing Bones gruff put-upon face with a charming grin.

“You’re fishing for compliments, Jim.” Bones shook his head as if he was exasperated. But there was an interesting edge to it: an attempt to brush off some other feeling. His eyes still lingered a little too long over his best friend’s body.

“I deserve compliments.” Jim pouted.

“Hm.” Bones managed to convey a lot of scepticism in one syllable. He raised an eyebrow. “So what are you doing here anyway? Thought you said you might not make it tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, I can’t stay.” Jim swung the bag off his shoulder and pulled it open, looking inside for the thing he had brought as an excuse for stopping by. “Just wanted to give you this…”

He fiddled for a moment, and as he did so, Bones tried to calm himself. He hadn’t expected a Jim Kirk so effortlessly stunning in casual attire to appear at his door. Again, his eyes roved over the blue t-shirt, the way those jeans were near scandalous on the thick thighs of the Captain. Internally, he was completely a flutter. Externally, he kept up his scowl.

“Here we are,” Jim said, withdrawing a tall pink bottle. “Just wanted to give you this. You left it in my quarters Thursday and I’ll end up drinking it all myself if I don’t give it back now.”

He handed over the bottle, shiny label written in the alien language of the creature Bones had originally bought it from, alcohol inside unfamiliar but delicious. Jim’s excuse was really rather feeble, to be fair, but Bones didn’t take notice of that. He was thinking about something else entirely.

“Oh, thanks.” He said, leaving the bottle on the table beside his discarded tablet. He wanted to ask why Jim was dressed up. Instead, what tumbled out was a question that was almost rude. “That all?”

“That’s all.” Jim smiled again, disarming as ever. “Now I really should be going.”

“Alright then.”

He followed Jim back to the door, ready to wave him off and close it behind him. Yet his mind was whirring, attacking the real problem that presented itself to him. It was unusual for Jim to bother dressing up in non-regulation clothes, let alone ones this fancy, when he was on board the ship. On top of that, Bones was certain he smelled cologne drifting in Jim’s wake. There must have been a reason for it. And, as far as Bones could tell, there would be only _one_ reason Jim would bother.

He must be going on a date.

A date with someone who was, most obviously and most painfully, not Bones himself. Of course, the doctor had seen Jim date a lot of different people in the past, and he had heard about him sleeping with even more. But still, every single time, it hurt.

And this time, Bones was more shattered than usual. Because Jim hadn’t said a word to him about it.

He waved goodbye to his best friend at the door, watched him walk off down the corridor, ass absolutely blessed by the cut of his jeans, and blinked back a sudden sting in his eyes. They were on their five year mission, and they weren’t carrying extra passengers right now. Jim’s date had to be with a member of the crew. Jim’s date had to be with a member of the crew _he hadn’t told Bones that he liked._

Scotty’s words returned to him then. The fact that, apparently, Jim was obvious when he had crushes. Yet, apparently, he hadn’t bothered to tell his best friend about this one. Hadn’t even told him about the bloody date.

 “Jim?” Bones called, wanting to give him a chance, provide an opening. Jim turned at the sound of his name, questioning eyebrow already quirked, and Bones jerked a thumb to the left. “Aren’t your quarters the other way?”

“Yeah.” Jim replied. “I just have to go see someone first.”

“Oh.” Bones said. He swallowed. “Who is it?”

Jim hesitated, far too obvious, and then waved a dismissive hand.

“I’ll tell you later.”

This time, Bones let him go.

…

Jim stopped right outside the door to Nyota and Spock’s quarters, and pulled another item from his bag. It was a sealed silver packet, packed using alien technology to perfectly preserve and contain some beautiful plant life, which he had picked up from the last inhabited planet they had visited.

He ripped it open with his teeth and gently withdrew the delicate gift inside. As promised, the flowers unfurled as soon as they hit the air. They weren’t quite like flowers from earth: a variety Jim had never seen, which grew deep under mud and burst into colour as soon as their tips felt the touch of oxygen. He was pleased to see that they lived up to expectations, blooming red to yellow in a spectrum of warmth.

He folded their packaging into his bag and pressed the ringer on the door in front of him.

It opened right away, Spock on the other side. His face was as calm as ever, but his dark eyes shone with something vibrant. Jim let himself look over the half-Vulcan in a manner far more obvious that he usually allowed. Yet how could be help it? Spock wore a snug, dark, high necked sweater that looked so soft it tempted fingers just by existing, ribbed with masterful designs in the delicate wool. His mouth was just slightly open, and he also examined Jim with a shiver inducing intensity.

And then his mouth twitched in amusement.

“Flowers?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Jim lifted them, hand clutched around the stems. “Nice, aren’t they?”

“I have never understood the logic of bringing flowers.” Spock admitted, stepping aside to let Jim in. “Gifts which are only going to die once parted from their soil seem impractical. Yet I admit these look aesthetically pleasing in your hands.”

Jim laughed, waiting for the door to close behind him before he leaned up to press a quick kiss to Spock’s cheek, hands still occupied by the flowers.

“I always said you didn’t seem like much of a romantic.” He murmured. “But we’ll get there.”

“Hello, Jim.” Nyota’s voice interrupted the two of them.

Jim looked up to find her standing in the doorway that lead to the bedroom, still slipping in an earring, and he beamed at her. Like her boyfriend, she was beautiful out of uniform. Her similarly soft sweater fell loose to her mid-thighs in a gentle cream colour that contrasted stunningly with her skin. Underneath, she wore tights that, as Jim stared with parted lips, he realised were made of deep red velvet. Her hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail, warm anticipation all over her face.

“Nyota,” he said. “You both look gorgeous.”

“So do you.” She assured him, also not holding back in her appraisal of him. “I see you bought flowers?”

“Yeah,” he held them out, and when she stepped forward to take them, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek that matched the one he had given Spock. “I picked them up at our last stop, at that temple market.”

“I remember.” Nyota said. “I nearly bought some for myself.”

She smiled down at the plant as though she thought it were as lovely as she was. An impossible feat, Jim decided, but still, a nice response.

“Let me find a vase for them.” She said, leaving the room again.

“Would you like to hang up your bag?” Spock asked.

“Yes, please.” Jim said, sliding it off. “Just let me get one more thing.”

He withdrew a bottle of wine this time, handing it to Spock, and watching the interested eyebrow twitch as Spock read the label.

“I see you have chosen two classic human dating rituals.”

“And one Vulcan.” Jim said, pulling out his very last gift, pleased with himself to work it so smoothly into the conversation. It was a carved corkscrew, dark wood inlaid with silver, and his father’s initials punched into the top. He held it out. “This is for you.”

Spock took the corkscrew from him, examined it.

“I regret to admit I do not understand your meaning.” He said slowly, turning it over in his hands.

“It isn’t really so much about the material possession, I guess.” Jim admitted, looking a little uncertain now. “But it used to belong to my father, and I remembered how you gave Nyota that necklace, which used to belong to your mother. I was attempting to, uh, give a logical expression of intended, um, long term devotion.”

Spock looked touched, in that quiet, introspective way of his, startled that Jim had taken the time to pay such attention to his culture.

“Thank you, Jim.”

“It just made sense.” Jim shrugged.

He looped his bag onto the hooks beside the door and walked a little further into the room. Spock came to his senses quickly, guiding him to the couch in the living space, where Jim sat down. Nyota chose that moment to reappear, the flowers now settled in a tall glass, which she set on a small side table.

“Jim brought wine.” Spock said, holding up the bottle to her. “Along with this corkscrew.”

Nyota seemed to sense the significance in his voice, so she reached for both items, and her face softened when she saw the letters on top of the corkscrew, as always putting things together easily.

“This belonged to your father?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Jim said.

“Thank you, Jim.” Nyota said.

“’S no problem.” Jim shrugged again, secretly delighted that the gift had gone over so well.

Nyota handed the bottle to Spock to uncork, and found three glasses for them, placing them on the table in front of the couch before, with consideration in her eyes, she sat down on Jim’s left, knees tucked up under her so that her body inclined ever-so-slightly toward him.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Jim asked her, the two of them watching Spock pour the wine, both admiring the graceful long fingered hands.

“Well, Spock had dessert made for us earlier,” Nyota answered. “He said he remembered you raving over how much you love a good chocolate cake?”

“Hell yeah.” Jim looked excited already, face breaking over with sunshine.

“I will retrieve it.” Spock said, leaving the wine behind. Nyota continued to talk as he went.

“We also thought we could just relax a little tonight. Perhaps watch a movie, or a documentary or something. Spock said there was something he had in mind.”

“I would like to watch the documentary on the musical culture of the Tiirektu people.” Spock affirmed, handing Jim and Nyota their slices of cake. “It was very interesting, and I know both of you would enjoy it.”

“But didn’t you watch it last week?” Nyota asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I did.” Spock agreed.

“I thought you said re-watching something when it was already fresh in your mind was illogical.” Nyota continued to prod.

“I did say that,” Spock nodded. “But this evening I do not plan to watch the entirety of the program with my full attention. No doubt Jim will provide sufficient distraction, and it would be illogical to start something new when I will probably miss a great part of the information contained within.”

“Makes sense.” Jim said, voice slightly dazed at the bold and unashamed declaration Spock had just made.

Spock went across and turned on the large screen on the wall opposite the couch. He set the documentary to begin, and then returned to the other two, pausing suddenly, as if uncertain about where he should sit.

Jim moved over on the couch, so that he was fully in the middle, space for Spock on his right. He saw Nyota smile, as if pleased that he was comfortable with being in between them, not feeling like an odd one out with a couple who had been together for so long. Spock folded neatly into place just as the documentary began.

He was right. It was interesting. Jim became caught up in it fairly easily, eating his cake, drinking his wine, and appreciating the warm easy comfort of being around the other two, listening to the comments they made, and making them laugh with his own.

Then, twenty minutes in, Spock seemed to decide that he was ready to begin being distracted. Jim had just set down his wine glass, now empty, and when he leaned back against the cushions, Spock reached out, casual as ever, and entwined their fingers. Despite every effort to remain calm, a ridiculous smile broke over Jim’s face.

Nyota didn’t miss the change. Perched higher as she was with her knees folded under herself, she swung a casual arm around Jim. Still smiling uncontrollably, he leaned into her, head resting on the lean muscle of her shoulder.

 On screen, the documentary shifted into a one of the songs performed by the remarkably colourful Tiirektu aliens. While it played in the background, Spock seemed to entirely give up on watching. He leaned in to where Jim lay nestled against Uhura, reaching his hands up up to cup Jim’s face, and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

Jim abandoned the documentary right away, humming happily, returning the kiss. Nyota, in the most gentle, casual way, reached her free hand, the one not already holding Jim, and twined it into his hair, guiding his head to a tilt as she watched him kiss Spock.

“Didn’t take you long, boys.” She teased.

Jim made a noise which sounded almost like enthusiastic agreement, totally unabashed, and Spock responded instinctively to the sound. His kisses pressed Jim deeper into the curve of Nyota’s body, and she shifted, pulling her knees up further so that Jim settled between them, back pressed flush against her body, head tipped back on her shoulder. Her hands roved down his torso, brushed under the edge of his shirt, and came to rest on the tensing muscles of his stomach. Spock moved as well, to accommodate, drawing his legs up fully, so that he knelt on the couch, Jim spread in front of him, and he stretched out to continue their kisses, all heady unhurried ease.

When Jim clutched at the soft velvet of Nyota’s knees on either side of him, she let out a small noise of appreciation, and leaned right into his ear.

“Fuck, Jim,” she said, and it was the first time he had ever heard her swear. That in itself made him moan against Spock’s mouth. “You’re even more beautiful that I imagined.”

Jim whimpered again, and this time Spock pulled back from their kiss, just enough to allow him room to speak.

“We predicted that you would become plaint.” Spock murmured. “But we did not, I believe, anticipate how perfectly you would fit between us.”

“ _Fuck, Spock,_ ” Jim panted, and strained to kiss him again.

Spock allowed him another kiss, and then another, and then his mouth began to roam instead, covering a great deal more of Jim’s face, showing inquisitive interest when the tender places at the edges of his jawline elicited beautiful whimpers.

Nyota, with Jim’s head tipped back the way it was against her shoulder, found herself able to press her face to the sweet swoop of his neck. She grazed it with teeth first, just the barest brush, turned the movement to a kiss, and then carefully began to work out a small, fascinating hickey against his skin.

Jim fell apart a little more.

The background sounds of their documentary continued, vague easily ignored voices, and then intricate pieces of music, but none of the three seemed particularly aware of it. Nor of how much time was passing.

It was comfortable, free of pressure. They didn’t need anything else, in that moment. There were only kisses, ongoing, and occasional sweet words and teasing: Jim’s cocky humour and unveiled bliss, Spock’s sincere affection, and Nyota’s gentle, generous guiding touches.

It was several minutes after the last notes of the documentary fell silent behind them that the three of them actually seemed to return to awareness.

Their kissing slowed, conversation increased, and finally, Jim arched his back and sat up straight.

“What’s the time?” he asked voice husky, and his _everything_ so utterly debauched that Nyota couldn’t resist pulling him in as she answered.

“You’ve been here nearly two hours.” She told him, kissing him again.

He responded in kind, Spock’s warm hand resting on his thigh like an anchor, their legs still a little tangled, and when Nyota pulled away, he sighed.

“I should go.” He said, sounding like he were trying to convince himself. “It’s late. We have so much to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Nyota agreed, lips trailing down his neck before she managed to pull away with a last soft smack. “You’re right.”

Jim pressed a quick kiss to Spock’s cheek as well, before extracting himself from between them on the couch, standing up. His shirt was crumpled, his pants a little uncomfortably tight at the front, and his hair was almost certainly a mess. It was only when he noticed that Spock and Nyota were both looking at his neck, satisfaction on their faces, that he realised he was probably carrying more lasting marks of the evening.

They were just as dishevelled though. Spock’s hair stood on end, tugged on by searching fingers, and his face was a little flushed, his sweater still ridden up enough to expose the pale skin of his abdomen. Nyota’s hair had come out of her ponytail in loose wisps, though the rest still held up, and there was lipstick smudged around her mouth, as well as all over the boys. Both were more sinfully tousled than Jim had ever seen them.

He grinned.

“Thanks so much for tonight.” He said.

“Would you like to do this again?” Nyota asked, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Fuck, yeah.” Jim said.

Beside Nyota, Spock looked hesitant, on the edge of saying something. He met Jim’s eyes despite the nerves.

“Was this… enough for you?” He asked, blunt as ever. Jim’s face softened.

“Spock, it was perfect.” He assured him. “I would do this all night, every night, if it was practical.”

Spock looked relieved.

“Sad, really, that Spock would never allow such impractical things.” Nyota teased.

“Nyota, you should give yourselves more credit than that.” Spock countered, voice very serious. “I would be tempted.”

Jim and Nyota burst out laughing.

The joyous sound faded into a weighty silence, full of the anticipation of a new relationship. Finally, Jim adjusted his shirt, tried to flatten his hair with his hand, and cleared his throat.

“Right, so I guess I’ll see you both on the Bridge tomorrow?” He said.

“We’ll see you then.” Nyota agreed, standing.

Jim’s new boyfriend and girlfriend walked him to the door, kissed him one more time each, and then checked the corridor was clear before he slipped outside.

“Bye, Jim.” Nyota said.

“Goodbye, Captain.”

Jim waved and walked away, barely able to contain his delight.


	6. Interleude: Affirmation

Over the next week, Nyota, Spock, and Jim spent a lot of time together. Usually, they spent evenings and occasional snatches of time talking, and sometimes they ended up kissing for long hours, but in general they took the relationship slowly. It seemed important to be calm about it, to let the whole thing slide easily into place. It would have been difficult to find much time for much more anyway, as the ship approached a significant stopping point at the end of the week.

Their destination, the planet Thrak, was already known to the Federation. A few days ago, it had requested help from the closest Starfleet vessel to solve a growing dispute, and because it only lay a little way off course, Jim and his crew were given the task. All they knew was that the planet was suffering from repeated raids directed against their most important city by forces of hill dwelling rebels. The city folk defined themselves as natives to the planet, having lived there since the conception of their entire species, while the rebels had only arrived on Thrak about two thousand years ago. Despite their established pockets of settlement, they were still scorned as outsiders, and worse, outsiders deliberately moving against the natives.

Captain Kirk was going to stay on board the ship this time. His First Officer, Spock was the one leading the first landing party, going to seek the rebels in the hills, because their people were known to respect and admire Vulcans. The other landing party would be led by Nyota, who would pay proper respects to the city leaders and assure them that Starfleet had answered their call. She knew a fair bit about Thrak culture, and after re-familiarising herself with their language, she was best suited for the job.

In fact, Nyota was fairly excited about it. Thrak temples were legendary, and the most impressive one of all was meant to be the one in the middle of the main city. She had been dying to visit for a while.

It was actually a real blessing that her passion for the culture and language was such common knowledge. When she reported to the transporter room with a ridiculous smile plastered all over her face that morning, it was easily brushed off as related to the upcoming journey. No one would even come close to guessing the real reason: a sleepy, dishevelled Jim Kirk turning up outside the door to her and Spock’s quarters that morning just to kiss them goodbye: Spock standing at her side, warm and more content than she had seen him in a long time.

“Right, Lieutenant Uhura.” Scotty said, breaking her out of her thoughts. “You all ready to go?”

“Yes,” She answered, stepping up with her landing party, away from Spock’s side. Her boyfriend was waiting for his own landing party to leave just after her own.

She took only two others with her, both science officers, with translator plugs pinned to their shirts so they could speak and understand the Thrak language too. The three of them would apparently be arriving in the centre of a busy city square, where a representative of the Elders of the species would wait for them, so Nyota stood straight backed and self-assured, ready to make a good impression.

In the last seconds before she vanished, she locked eyes with Spock. As always, he had a deep intensity in his gaze, and she smiled at him, delighted with the secret they shared, and the responding twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Then he was gone, and instead, she was staring up at the phenomenal sight of a temple she had only ever seen in photographs.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

To her left she heard a chuckle, but on her right, the younger science officer was only in agreement.

“I see what you were talking about,” he said. “That’s fucking cool.”

The towering building looked as though it were made of billions of gossamer threads, all extending upward and winding together in the spired top of the temple. Its door, parted in the hanging curtains of delicate silken strands, was wide and crowed with people flowing in and out. It made sense, after all, that so many would be gathered there. From what Nyota knew of the culture, she had gathered that the spiritual centre was the guiding point to every member of the species, without question. The leaders of the planet, the Elders, were spiritual leaders as much as they were political, with religious mandates governing all of their society.

Then Nyota realised that the landing party was being stared at in absolute amazement by the people around them, who mere moments ago had been hurrying around the busy square. The alien creatures looked very like humans, only their long arms with long fingers, and leg joints which bent back the opposite way gave them away. They also grew no hair on their faces and heads, and instead wore scarves to protect themselves from the sun.

“ _You are the representatives from the starship?”_ One of the aliens asked in their own language, stepping forward, and Nyota was pleased to recognise the red silken draping across their shoulders as a symbol of a temple worker.

“ _Yes,_ ” she answered. “ _I am Lieutenant Uhura of Starfleet. May we be granted passage to your temple?”_

They had already been granted passage over the communications back on the ship, but it was the polite thing to say. The alien smiled.

“ _Passage is granted. The elders wait for you inside.”_ They swept an arm toward the temple steps, and looked pleased to have drawn so much attention from their peers. “ _Please, follow me.”_

Nyota and her companions did as they were instructed, slowing their pace to match their attendant alien, who hopped each step to the top with their backward bending legs.

Nyota tipped her head up to stare at the spire of the temple until the moment they passed through the curtains to the inside, delighted by the intricate arrangement of the whole place. Even under the layers on layers of threads, it was light inside. The large cavernous room was laid out exactly as she had expected. Before them stood a wide open space, and in the centre another gathering of draping fibres creating what looked like a cocoon in the very middle. All around them, aliens walked and worshipped, laying gifts in the small ring of alters that were scattered in an odd eclectic arrangement around them.

Their guide took them straight to the centre, and announced them to the cocoon.

“ _Enter._ ” The voice inside was far more commanding than the soft whispers of the other alien. Indeed, it was about as forceful as their breathy language would allow.

Nyota and her friends ducked under the curtains as their guide held the silken strands out of their way, and as soon as they were past, the temporary opening swept closed behind them. They were faced with a circle of three elders, who each tipped their heads to the side as they observed their new guests.

Nyota cleared her throat and began the traditional harking of respect. Following that, they ran quickly through most of their business. Nyota explained that a second party sought to meet the rebels in the hills to bring forward the idea of some sort of treaty, perhaps even escorting them to the temple for negotiations. The Elders easily accepted it as a good idea.

” _We do not wish to cast them off planet._ ” One of them said, nodding a head piled high with layers and layers of embroidered red cloth. “ _We only want peace for those on the edges of the city.”_

_“With prejudice growing on both sides,_ ” said another, whose cloth draped flat and silky, framing her slender face. “ _We have been trying to intervene for a long time. Eventually, we knew only Starfleet would be able to arrange an encounter between leaders without… violence.”_

_“They do tend to respond with violence if we send representatives.”_ The last added. Their red scarf was tied into an elaborate knot above the forehead. “ _I believe that, with their longer lifespans, they still recall the way they were treated as intruders by our ancestors. And truthfully, many still see them that way._ ”

“ _It is good to have your cooperation.”_ Nyota smiled. “ _I believe it will make this easier. We will have to wait on news from our crew now, but I don’t think they will take too long either.”_

_“So you must wait with us for a time?”_ One of the Elders asked.

“ _Yes.”_

_“In that case, would you be interested in your own temple experience?”_

She tried to control her smile, to seem less overexcited, but it was difficult.

“ _I would love to.”_ She turned to her crew. “What about you guys?”

“Yeah, okay!”

“Why not.”

They were each lead by one of the Elders out of the swoops of thread at the side of the cocoon, and back into the open space. Nyota sent a quick message back to the ship to update them on the situation, and then turned to her Elder, the one with the pile of fabric atop their head. The two science officers already sat cross legged in front of the other two Elders at the two of the alters closet to the central cocoon.

Nyota watched her own Elder bend their weird legs, and then, as indicated, seated herself in front of them.

“ _My dear, if you would place your hands against the marked spaces on the table,”_ they requested.

She put her hands there, though they didn’t quite fit the long, narrow shapes made for Thrak fingers. Immediately, as though responding to the touch, long gossamer fibres flowed down from the roof above and twisted themselves around the alter where Nyota and the Elder sat, enclosing them. She gasped, but didn’t withdraw. Right before the fibres tightened to close off the space around them, she saw matching fibres reaching to surround her crew members.

She had read about the process of course. It was meant to separate them off from the rest of the temple, give them some privacy.

The faintest yellow glow swelled around her hands where they were laid on the stone table. The Elder smiled, looking relaxed and happy.

_“Just as I thought,”_ they said.

“ _Just as you thought?”_ Nyota queried, watching the alien smile.

“ _As a leader in the temple,”_ they explained. _“I cannot help but pick up automatic surface readings of your spiritual centre, and you, Lieutenant Uhura, seem to provide a fascinating subject. How much do you know of our religion here on Thrak?”_

_“A fair bit.”_ She answered. “ _You study people as they are attached to symbols in the Universe. I believe there are four categories of spiritual leaning. Heart, Head, Hands, and I believe the last one is known as Hope?”_

_“Also known as Soul,”_ the Elder said. “ _Although I would assume in translations you read it may have been named Hope. In your tongue that is alliterative, is it not?”_

_“Yeah, it is.”_ She said, impressed that they knew.

_“Those categories are indeed the centre of our faith.”_ The Elder nodded their head. “ _And each person falls under a category of spiritual leaning. Myself, for example…”_

They placed their hands on the other side of the table, and the same warm yellow glowed out from the point of contact. They smiled again. There was something very serene about their face, or rather, something serene in all of the alien faces Nyota had seen so far. It was impressive.

“ _This colour,”_ they said to her. “ _It marks me as a person of Soul, just as your own yellow glow has marked you as a person of Soul.”_

_“Really?”_ Nyota beamed, looking down at her golden glow. “ _So what does that mean?”_

_”Souls are spiritual, they’re curious and genuine, and they are the explorers of the world.”_ The Elder looked a little misty eyed. _“Only individuals marked as Souls are allowed to take up temple work in our city, and become Seekers or Elders to our people.”_

_“I think I remember reading that.”_ Nyota nodded. “ _And I remember the other area of your main temple work is directed toward seeking, uh, soulmates?”_

_“Destined partners, yes,_ ” the Elder explained. “ _You see, when we look to core of each person to discover their spiritual leaning, we also find trends in their lifetimes. We believe in reincarnation, you see. And there are certain people who are destined to come together and fall deeply in love in every existence they may experience.”_

_“Do you have destined partners?_ ” She couldn’t help asking. The Elder grinned again, showing more teeth this time, pointed and slim.

“ _I do,”_ they told her. “ _In fact, my destined partners are what allowed me the path to becoming an Elder in the first place. The two other Elders, the ones you met before, are mine.”_

_“You have two?”_ Nyota felt her heart pick up, hopeful, happy.

“ _Yes.”_ The Elder looked amused. “ _I forget you humans more often settle into monogamous lifestyles.”_

_“So are they Souls as well? Your partners?”_

_“Yes, both are Souls.”_ They nodded. “ _Destined partners can be of any kind, not necessarily your own, and can be in any sort of arrangement. It is very rare, however, to have three of the same time in a bond such as ours, and the very existence of the bond is what made us so suited to being temple Elders. Three bonded Souls make perfect spiritual leaders. I certainly wouldn’t be able to hold this role without the ones I love.”_

_“Can you tell if_ I _have destined partners?”_ Nyota asked, itching with curiosity now.

“ _Of course, dear.”_

The Elder took up a handful of what looked like dark obsidian sand, and tossed it over the table and over Nyota’s hands. Then they touched their fingers to the back of her palms and closed their eyes.

_“The sand brings forth more of your central core.”_ The Elder explained.

Sure enough, from the place where Nyota’s hands lay, the golden light intensified. It beamed up, like a holographic projection, and she immediately began to wonder at the technology behind it. She, of course, wasn’t one of the Thrak faith, and therefore saw past some of the mystical nature of the ritual. She wondered if, instead of seeking a destiny or an inner self, the act had something to do with the reading of mental states or brain waves. Something, perhaps, that was similar to a Vulcan mind meld?

She decided to read up more on it later. For now, she just enjoyed the magical feelings of watching the lights dance into shapes, filling the space around them.

They were surrounded by a glow of the now familiar golden yellow colour, the colour that represented Soul. In the centre, the brightest burst seemed to shape itself into a twisting spiral in the air, curling round and round over itself, marked by more definitive edges. Faintly, so faintly it was barely perceptible, she saw what may have been an imprint of her own face looming over the shape.

“ _The shape you see shows you, again, that you are bound to the ways of the Soul_.” The Elder began to explain, as shifting shapes around it seemed to glow in different colours, and Nyota’s heart beat increasingly faster. _“Accompanied by the projection of your own face.”_

“ _What are the new colours?”_ Nyota asked.

The Elder opened her eyes now, staring up as the wisps in the light shook out into three distinct colours: a deep blushing red, an ocean teal, and the indigo of endless galaxies.

“ _Those, my dear, are about to reveal the representations of your destined partners.”_

Nyota held her breath a little, though she knew, before it even happened, what she was about to see.

“ _I admit I’m impressed.”_ The Elder continued. “ _It is very rare for humans to have four in a bound set, let alone with those colours. That- well, that is almost unprecedented. It seems that every one of you has a different spiritual leaning at your core.”_

Nyota was about to ask what each colour actually meant, but then the shapes began to form, and her question was unnecessary: the dark turquoise became a brain outlined in its own bright glow, the red became a human heart that nearly pulsed with flickers of light, and the deep purple became a pair of hands with open palms.

“ _Head, Heart, Hands.”_ Nyota whispered to herself, smiling. “ _And Soul.”_

_“Truly a blessing to witness,”_ the Elder said.

_“Are there faces for-”_ Nyota didn’t finish her question. The faces manifested in the background before she could say anything.

First, behind the hands, was Jim Kirk, beaming and bright, with that cocky edge that was so unfairly endearing. He was always the one for action, for doing what needed to be done, and he was so free with his touches, with those roaming affectionate fingers, so physical. Second, behind the brain, was Spock, his eyes somehow searing despite the fact that he was merely an outline in coloured light. He, of course, was their mental centre, their logic, their grounding, the introspective intensity that bound them together and frustrated them all at once. Then finally, last of all, dear Leonard McCoy came into focus behind the pulsing heart, face characteristically grumpy as though the projection were embarrassed to appear in the ritual at all. He was their heart, their stubborn irrational emotional core, who built himself up with layer of grouchy complaints, and yet cared _so much, so deeply._

Nyota had tears in her eyes. She laughed at little, quickly brushed them away.

“ _Thank you.”_ Her voice was sincere. “ _Thank you so much.”_

_“You know them already?”_ The Elder asked.

“ _I know them very well.”_ Nyota nodded. “ _All are on board the ship.”_

_“I see.”_

Nyota was about to explain to this amazing stranger who had given her this gift (because no matter whether the science of it were accurate or not, it made her feel affirmed in the connection she felt) but at the exact moment, her communicator rang with a message.

“ _Sorry, please excuse me,”_ she said. _“I think this will be the call coming through to arrange your meeting.”_

The Elder nodded, gesturing for her to go ahead, and when Nyota took her hands off the table to answer the com, the lights faded, and the threads began to retract to the ceiling.

“Lieutenant Uhura here.” She replied to the com with one hand, and with the other she beckoned to one of her science officers, who seemed to have finished their own temple experience already, indicating that they should interrupt the other one.

_“_ Uhura,” Jim said, relief in his voice. “We received your message that the Elders were cooperating. Are they ready to meet with the rebel leaders right away?”

“Yes, they are.” Nyota told him. The sound of his voice made her feel a little light headed all over again. She wanted to tell him everything that had just happened. It was hard to brush it aside and focus on business. “We’re sort of just waiting around in the temple now.”

“Good,” Jim said. “A few representatives from the rebels have returned to our ship and are waiting to beam back down into the city with the security team we’re providing. If you could bring your team and meet them in the square?”

“Yes, Captain.” She agreed.

“And Uhura,” Jim paused. There was something pained in his voice. Something wrong. “After you meet them in the Square, I want the rest of your team to handle the mission from there. They’ll know how to mediate between each party to form the contract. We need _you_ back on the ship.”

“Why?” Nyota asked, not missing the edge in his voice.                              

There was a long pause, as though a decision hung in the air. Finally, Jim made it, and spoke.

“Spock’s hurt.”


	7. Stage Six: Discovered

Nyota ran from the transporter room the moment she had been beamed aboard the ship, the med bay seeming farther away than was really fair. Other crew members turned in surprise to watch her pass, crying out in surprise, but she sprinted on, ignoring them. When she finally reached her destination, she screeched to a stop in the doorway, tears springing immediately to her eyes at the sight that met her.

Jim sat uselessly beside the bed, out of the way, uncharacteristically quiet, uncharacteristically still. Spock and Bones were both covered in green blood, and Bones swore and mumbled under his breath as he worked over the body before him. Spock lay with his head lolling back, one hand pressing something to an open wound in his torso. The other hand, she realised, was clasped in Jim’s, as though the Captain was a little past caring what people would think.

“Spock,” Nyota breathed.

All three of them looked up.

“Good, you’re here.” Bones said, and his voice was more gravelly than usual. “Talk to him. Distract him. Calm him down.”

“I am perfectly,” Spock winced as Bones cut his shirt free and the fabric shifted over the wound. “Perfectly calm, Doctor.”

“Shut the hell up you stubborn fool.” Bones growled. “Maybe the rest of us need some distracting, okay?”

Spock looked almost amused. And then, once again, pained.

“What happened?” Nyota asked, moving to the side of the bed and sliding into the chair beside Jim.

She laid her hand over both of theirs.

“He was attacked.” Jim said, speaking for the first time. His voice was very shaky. “Everyone else was fine, but Spock-”

His jaw tightened, angry, and Spock quickly took over telling the story.

“Our landing party approached the village from a small distance,” he explained, voice surprisingly steady. “But the rebels were surprised to find us so close to the encampment without warning from their scouts. They responded by trying to turn control of the situation back into their own hands. The traditional manoeuvre they use to achieve this goal is to put the intruding leader momentarily out of action with a specially selected poison dart. It does not kill, but simply immobilises the target long enough to bring them in to talk, and usually with the leader taken, the people comply. They thought me entirely Vulcan, based on what they had seen of me from afar. Therefore, they fired with a serum they know to work well for my people. Unfortunately, they could not have guessed that I am half-human, and my anatomy is… subtly different.”

“Oh god, Spock,” Nyota said, voice still soft.

“There is no reason for concern. After they captured our landing party and we were able to explain our purpose, they responded well to our hopes to arrange a treaty.” Spock’s voice was soothing: the only one of them seemingly unshaken by the event. “We were already preparing to contact Mr Scot to beam us up when they realised I was reacting more strongly than expected to the serum. It did not take us long to work out why. The leader returned with me to the ship, very apologetic, and was willing to give Doctor McCoy all the information he needed before he left for the main city.”

“Will you be okay then?” Nyota asked.

“He’ll be fine.” Bones snapped. “I’ll make sure he’s fine.”

“I am fortunate that our doctor is more familiar with my body than any other,” Spock said.

Bones scowl deepened at those words, but it looked as if he were trying to hide a blush which rose up his neck even as he worked.

“You always seem to get pierced the same damn place,” he fussed, fingers still moving steadily and purposefully over the wound in Spock’s side. “Far too close to your heart. I can’t believe it.”

“Only two times, Doctor,” Spock corrected him. “Only this time, and when we crashed the Enterprise at- _Leonard!_ ”

He gasped the Doctor’s name in a sudden jolt of pain.

“Sorry,” Bones said, not sounding sorry, and he pulled back. “Had to be done. And now I’m finished with the painful part. You have several stiches, but I have to hook you up for some repeated injections of serum, and you’ll have to take a week or so of rest, which is great news considering what _could_ have happened. Luckier than a damn barn twice hit in a lightning storm.”

“That does not sound like a good thing,” Spock observed.

Bones glared at him.

“Do you need any more painkillers?” He asked. “And don’t be a hero. Actually _tell me_ if you need more.”

“I am fine.”

“You better be telling the truth.” Bones muttered, staring up at the screen above Spock’s bed, which monitored his vitals.

 “I don’t lie, Leonard.”

Bones grunted.

“Now,” he said. “From what I gathered, after administering the small antidotal proteins the rebels were able to provide, the rest of the poison should be flushed out naturally by your body with only those small repeated doses. The timeframe to recovery might vary a little I’m afraid, as your genetic makeup was unfamiliar to the rebel leaders and there was little they could promise me, but we can roll with as it comes.”

“Spock’s biggest struggle,” Nyota said with a smile. “Will be being away from work for so long.”

“I have been sick a most inconvenient number of times lately.”

“I’m sure the boss will forgive you.” Nyota chuckled, looking over at the Captain at her side.

Jim managed a small smile, still staring at Spock, something like guilt in his eyes. Luckily, no one in the room missed that look, easily seeing through him.

“Don’t you dare tell yourself this is your fault, Jim.” Bones growled.

“I’m not.” Jim said, totally unconvincing.

“Captain, I would remind you that it was my idea to lead the landing party, and it was certainly the most logical choice. I know that my Vulcan heritage caused problems with the poison, but it also made the rebels more willing to listen to me after they took me in, rather than maintaining their suspicion. Their kind have always valued my people. You _know_ you made the right call for the mission.”

“And Spock will be better in a week, with Leonard’s help.” Nyota squeezed Jim’s hand, still under her own. “Nothing unalterable happened.”

“I just sat here on the ship.” Jim murmured. “I _sat_ here and waited for that call, while you-”

Spock tried to right himself, and only Bones’ quick hands stopped him, forcing him to stay in place. The half-Vulcan had to settle for fixing his serious, earnest eyes on the morose Captain.

“It would not have been logical to send you to the ground. We did not need you there _,”_ he said firmly. He watched Jim take a shaky breath, starting to accept his words. “And if you _had_ gone down, you would have been shot instead. The situation is no different. You did not require of me anything more than what you would have been willing to do.”

“We _all know_ you are willing to make sacrifices for the ship, Jim.” Bones added. “Give yourself more credit.”

“The only reason this ended so badly was because of a simple mistake.” Spock finished.

Finally, Jim nodded.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He finally managed a real smile. “Thanks.”

He looked between them all, with their sweet concerned faces, and the shake vanished from the smile, turning it up full beam. Spock and Nyota seemed happy to take the force of it. Bones turned away.

“Now that Jim is finished being ridiculous,” he said. “I better send Spock off to sleep.”

Spock decided not to protest. He really _was_ exhausted, and his painkillers were beginning to make him feel sluggish, as well as slightly less in control of his emotions. He had been close to lifting Jim’s hand to his mouth and kissing it. Far too close.

He lay his head back on the pillows, and with a flick of a button, Bones sent a sedative drug down his IV line and into his arm. It spread quickly through his system, and his head dropped with sleep.

“Nearly frightened me half to death” Nyota mumbled, leaning forward and kissing Spock on the forehead. “Now, Jim, we better get back to the Bridge.”

“Oh crap, yeah.”

Jim stood up, straightened his uniform.

“Bones, we’ll see you later. I might come here tonight, before I go to bed. A Captain needs to keep an eye on his First Officer, right?”

“I’ll join you.” Nyota promised. “Hopefully we can get this whole debacle with Thrack finished by the end of the day.”

“Okay,” Bones nodded his head. “See you both later.”

He watched them file out of the med bay, and thought suddenly that they looked beautiful side by side. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Yet, along with the rest of the heart aching day, it seemed to hit him more significantly.

Then, just as they were passing out of ear shot, he caught a strange snatch of conversation.

“You know, Jim,” Nyota said, whispering. “That wasn’t the first time Spock was hurt on a mission, but you seemed more shaken than usual.”

Jim laughed nervously, embarrassed.

“True,” he admitted. “I guess, with everything happening between us, things felt different this time.”

And then, as a slight frown creased Bones brow, they passed completely away out of the med bay doors.

…

Nyota was exhausted by the end of the day. She trudged back to her quarters from the med bay, forced to go to bed by their stubborn Doctor, who would, in contradiction to his insistence that sleep was _necessary_ , be spending the whole night by Spock’s side. Her sense of helpless restlessness had come to a head when she parted from Jim. The Captain had made the turn back toward his own quarters, sad eyes matching hers, and she had watched him go, miserable.

It was disconcerting, opening the door and pulling off her shoes with no greeting from Spock, who would usually be sitting in the other room at this time of night. She stood there by the doorway for a long moment, and then walked listlessly through their small living space.

It was strange, with all the reassurances that Spock would be _fine,_ yet with that image of him, covered in blood, shirt ruined, face pained. It was impossible to feel settled knowing he was still lying in the med bay, still under care, future just a little too uncertain for her liking. She kept thinking about how Jim and Bones must have felt, getting that call, having Spock beamed up to them, a rapidly degrading mess. And with that time running against them. Poison in his veins. His blood-soaked body and that wound in his side. She was almost relieved she had missed that part.

She changed into pyjamas, sat on the edge of the bed, bit her lip and stared at Spock’s place on the left.

She couldn’t be alone tonight.

_You don’t have to be alone,_ she reminded herself. _That’s the beauty of being with more than one person._

Nyota smiled, leaned over, and pulled up a communication channel direct to the Captain’s quarters.

“Nyota?” He answered, panic in his voice already. “Is Spock-”

“Spock’s fine,” she said quickly. “I just- uh- Jim, it’s pretty lonely without him.”

She heard an exhale on the other end, soft and sad and relieved.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“I just thought, maybe, you might like to come over tonight?” She felt suddenly nervous in asking, the classic flutter of potential rejection despite knowing Jim well enough to know what his answer would be.

“I’d love to,” he breathed. “I- I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure if you would want- I mean we haven’t done anything _alone_ yet and I-”

“Come over, and I can tell you how silly you are in person.” Nyota knew her relief was also audible in her voice.

Jim didn’t even bother with another quip. He hung up the phone.

…

Chekhov sat in the dimly lit corridor, knee bent, head of ruffled hair resting against the door behind him and shirt crumpled in his hands.

He swore to himself in Russian. The girl inside the room had kicked him out about an hour before. It wasn’t the first time they had slept together. It was, however, the first time her family had rang through for a video call in the middle of a make out session. He had been tossed right outside, promised that the minute she finished catching up with them he would be let back in, and she would be more than eager to continue.

So, not one to be discouraged, Chekhov waited. He understood, of course, that time to actually talk to family was precious. He didn’t begrudge her that time. He was willing to wait. He was just struggling more and more not to nod off.

Luckily for him, something woke him up right at that moment.

Captain Kirk was walking down the corridor, looking almost eager, a sort of longing in his eyes. The lights around them had been dimmed for the night, of course, as they were near private rooms where most aboard the ship were sleeping. For this reason, Kirk seemed to entirely miss Chekhov as he strode past, the boy easily melting into the shadows of the doorway in which he was folded.

Chekhov leaned forward a little, watching as Kirk stopped before a door marked with _Nyota Uhura_ and _Spock._ The Captain pressed the doorbell button.

The door slid open right away, and Uhura stood illuminated inside. She smiled. Then she pulled Jim quickly toward her and, Chekhov almost gasped out loud, planted a kiss to his lips before drawing him fully inside. The door whooshed shut again.

Chekhov stood up, shirt falling to the floor, forgotten, mouth open.

Spock was in the med bay right now. Everyone on board knew that. And, apparently, his best friend and his girlfriend were taking advantage of that absence.

…

Nyota folded into Jim’s arms the moment they were alone, and he curled over her, breath huffing out relieved, squeezing his eyes shut and just absorbing the sheer comfort of her. He felt, in that moment, more calm than he had for the entire day.

“Nyota,” he said, voice rough with emotion, and she pulled back and looked into his eyes, reaching a hand to gently fix a messy tuft of hair on his head.

“Yes, Jim,” she whispered.

“Thank you for calling me.”

Nyota smiled, eyes so warm.

“Thank you for coming so quickly.”

She led him into the bedroom, kissed him one more time, and lifted his shirt over his head. Jim hummed contentedly as her lips met his one more time, happy to let her lead the situation. When she pulled away, looking so elegant on the slightest tip toe, one hand on his bare chest, one on the back of his head, he nearly wanted to cry with how badly he needed this time with her tonight. With Spock so badly injured, with Bones out of his reach, she was the tether keeping him sane.

“You look tired,” she said.

“Mm,” Jim agreed.

“I’m exhausted,” she added. “Come on.”

She slid her dress off over her head, popped off her bra without pause, kicked away her boots. Jim managed to fumble off his pants and shoes, taking more time, until both stood in their underwear. Nyota took his hand and pulled him into the bed. Jim clambered under the covers immediately, sinking into Spock’s pillow and inhaling his clean smell. Nyota let her hair down before she nestled against his side. Exhausted, they curled around each other.

Jim’s arms strong and comforting, Nyota’s lithe form warm and familiar, they fell asleep in moments.

…

Chekhov felt like his brain was almost… full.

At some point, the door behind him opened again, and the girl he was waiting for pulled him back inside, but he was too distracted for the evening to come to as much as he had hoped. He certainly satisfied his partner, though half his mind was elsewhere, and he was unfulfilled by the time she fell asleep, too tired to really notice his absent-mindedness.

Chekhov pulled his clothes back on and slumped down by the door in the hallway again, eyes fixed on the door that belonged to Uhura and Spock, slightly worried he might have already missed seeing Jim leave.

Thoughts whirled around in circles in his mind as he tried to decide what to do. He adored Jim, looked up to him more than anyone else on the ship, in some ways even idolised him. One of the things he liked most about the Captain was the absolute loyalty he offered. If someone stood for Jim Kirk, Jim Kirk would stand for them to death’s door and back.

The whole thing seemed wildly out of character.

Of course, the Captain was also free and reckless in his relationships. Gossip spread around the ship almost every time they made a stop somewhere, tales flowing of some new sexual endeavour he had made. Yet Chekhov was a little like that too. And he knew as well as anyone that there were ways to be relaxed with sexuality that were still _honourable:_ that didn’t involve betraying your best friend.

And anyway, it was _certainly_ out of character for Nyota Uhura. She was almost intimidating at times, but there was no doubt in Chekhov’s mind that she was a noble person with incredible self-control.

He swore in Russian again, eyes on that door.

He would have to comfort Jim. It was his responsibility now, no way to close his eyes and deny what he saw. And if Jim wasn’t willing to face the truth, maybe Chekhov would have to accept the Captain falling from his pedestal.

The turmoil, the shock of it, managed to keep him awake the whole night, just thinking. When Uhura’s door slid open again, a mere half hour before the lights were scheduled to turn back up to full brightness, and Kirk slid out, Chekhov stood to meet his Captain, face grim.

Kirk’s face fell at the sight of him. He looked, furtively, back to the door that had just shut behind him, and then met the young man’s eyes.

“Hello, Chekhov.”

“Captain,” Chekhov said, frowning. “I would like to talk to you, if you have the time.”


	8. Stage Seven: Public

 

Kirk lead the way back to his own quarters to explain. The place wasn’t unfamiliar to Chekhov. In fact, the young man had been in there several times before, whenever he had a hard week and sought the advice of the Captain he admired so much. But things were different that night. The air felt wrought with tension.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Kirk asked, voice hesitant, as if he was hoping Chekhov had come to him for something else.

“I _saw_   you.” Chekhov stated the obvious.

Kirk’s face twitched slightly, nearly a wince, nearly a smile. He looked as though he wished this wasn’t happening, yet at the same time found it _funny_. Chekhov scowled.

“Saw what?” Kirk asked, voice a little too deliberately light. 

“I saw you going into Lieutenant Uhura’s room, and I saw you coming out,” Chekhov said.

“So?”

Chekhov sighed, looked pointedly at Kirk’s messy hair, the hickey above his collarbone visible over his rumpled shirt.

“What?” Kirk said defensively.

“I-I find it hard to believe,” Chekhov said, and he looked a little heart broken. “But I am not an idiot, Captain. I know what you and Nyota were doing inside.”

His accent pulled a little harder at his words than usual, his brows drawn up, upset.

“Chekhov-” Jim began, charming face in an expression of soothing.

“No, Captain,” Chekhov interrupted. “I _cannot_ stand back and let you do something like this to Commander Spock. It is not like you.”

“I’m not-”

“You may do what you want with your own time, Captain.” Chekhov said. “You know I wouldn’t judge you for letting loose a little. But I believed you had more honour than this. Even if you are attracted to Uhura and she likes you back, I- I cannot believe either of you would- he is your best friend. Spock is your best friend.”

“Not my only best friend,” Kirk began to correct, and then seemed to shake himself. “But that’s- that’s not the point. Chekhov, you, uh, misunderstood what you were seeing.”

“I am young, but I’m not stupid,” Chekhov said firmly. “I don’t know how long you’ve been fucking her, but I know you slept with her tonight.”

Kirk actually let out a laugh then, a short sharp sound that he cut off immediately, clearly trying to look as though he was taking the accusation seriously.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m, uh, glad you’re willing to confront me so openly about this, Chekhov. It shows real integrity that you aren’t scared to call out your Captain. And I appreciate the fact that you didn’t just go to Spock-”

The thought seemed to make him want to laugh again, like he was picturing something funny, but he swallowed it under Chekhov’s angry stare.

“I wanted to give you a chance first,” Chekhov said, confused by the response.

“Thank you,” Kirk said again, still unable to fully smother his smile. “But seriously. I’m not- not helping Uhura _cheat_ on Spock.”

Chekhov regarded him from a long moment, jaw still tight and annoyed.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So explain what you were doing in her room while Spock was away then, Captain. Explain why you snuck there in the darkness and came out looking like this.”

He gestured again, and Kirk ran a hand through his hair, his laughter becoming embarrassed.

“Shit, well, I guess I have to tell you.” His face began to redden. “It’s meant to be a secret, so uh- you have to promise you won’t tell anyone _else_.”

Despite himself, Chekhov looked intrigued.

“I won’t tell,” he said carefully, still guarded, still carrying the sting of his hero letting him down.

“Nyota and I didn’t actually have- we didn’t-” Kirk paused. “Well, I guess that’s not important. But we didn’t have sex. And if we _had_ , it technically wouldn’t have been _cheating,_ per se, because, uh, Spock would have known. And been perfectly happy with it.”

Chekhov raised an eyebrow.

“We’re sort of… all… together.” Kirk attempted a shrug, some of his usual cocky charisma, but he looked nervous. It was the first time he had told someone about the relationship.

“You’re _all_ together?” Chekhov repeated in astonishment. And then he began to smile. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” Kirk said. Chekhov let out a burst of laughter.

“Who is ‘all’? Does that mean you, Spock, Uhura _and_ Bones?” he asked. “Or just you, Spock, and Uhura?”

Kirk laughed again.

“Fuck, does _everyone_ really see through me that easily?”

All of Chekhov’s disappointed confrontational anger was gone. He looked elated, over the moon.

 “You are not subtle, Captain,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Fuck. Of course. Well, Bones technically isn’t a part of our relationship right now,” Kirk said. And then he smirked. “Not _yet_ anyway.”

Chekhov laughed again, practically bouncing where he stood. It was in moments like these that he really reminded those around him of just how young he really was.

 “This is the _best news,_ ” he said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“The ship will go crazy when they hear. This is- I mean, half the members of the crew have different ideas about the four of you,” Chekhov told him. “To find out that _all_ of you might get together- oh, _oh,_ I have to place some bets.”

He turned toward to the door in a hurry, over-eager, and Kirk caught him by the arm.

“Slow down,” he chuckled. “I’m flattered that you’re so excited, but- wait, did you say _half the crew_? Really? Is there nothing better to gossip about?”

“Not much tops the Captain getting together with three of his high-ranking officers,” Chekhov said.

“I suppose not,” Kirk had clearly never heard it summarised like that before. It took him a second to regather his thoughts. “But, uh, I hope you can remember not to tell anyone, Chekhov. Not yet anyway. It’s kind of a _secret_ relationship right now.”

“Of course, Sir,” Chekhov nodded, but he looked distracted already. “I won’t tell.”

“Okay then.” Kirk let him go. “I’ll see you on the Bridge tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“Yes, Captain,” Chekhov said. He turned for the door, and then paused right before he pressed the button to open it. “I’m, uh, sorry I accused you.”

Kirk smiled. “It’s no problem. Really. I’m glad you confronted me.”

The young ensign nodded to him one more time, and vanished back into the corridor.

…

Jim went down to the med bay as soon as he got ready for the day, teeth brushed, hair in order, and uniform on. When he arrived, he found Nyota already standing by the bedside, leaning over Spock as she talked to him in a quiet voice.

“Speaking of Jim,” Spock said suddenly, inclining his head to the doorway. “He has just arrived.”

 Nyota turned around with an instant smile.

“Jim, good morning, I was just telling Spock what a comfort you were last night,” she said.

Jim would usually have made a clever comment in response, perhaps even an innuendo, but he was too tense. He glanced quickly around the med bay.

“Where’s Bones?” he asked.

They both looked surprised at the twitchy question.

“Leonard spent the whole night awake taking care of Spock,” Nyota explained. “So I made him go to bed as soon as I got down here. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your nervous manner does not inspire any confidence,” Spock said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you are ‘fine’.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” Jim pulled up a seat of his own. “I just have to tell you something, and I wanted to make sure we were alone first.”

 “Okay,” Nyota said. Now they both looked worried.

“Chekhov saw me leaving your room last night, Nyota,” Jim said. “And he confronted me about it.”

There was a brief pause, tension growing.

“I hope you gave him an excuse?”

“Well,” Jim sighed. “It wasn’t as simple as all that. He kind of saw me when I first went in. And, uh, I _was_ with you rather a long time. And then I snuck out in the dark, wearing the same clothes I arrived in. And I have _this_ left over from earlier.”

He pulled the collar of his shirt low enough for them to see his most visible hickey.

“I think there was one rather obvious conclusion for him to draw,” he finished.

“Well crap,” Nyota said bluntly. “What did he say to you?”

“He pretty much accused me of sleeping with you behind Spock’s back. Seemed fucking stunned. And, well, to be honest, he was furious with me.”

Nyota snorted out a laugh, and the corner of Spock’s mouth gave an amused twitch. They were almost as fond of Chekhov as Jim was; the youngest member of their crew had a heart of gold no one could resist. The idea of him full of righteous anger over a perceived affair was something that made them both smile.

“What did you say to that?” Spock asked.

“I _had_ to tell him the truth. I mean, geez, I don’t want him thinking I’m some kind of-” he gestured vaguely, as if he couldn’t find the words. “I would never do that to Spock.”

“Nor would I!” Nyota added. She shook her head, and then laughed again, clearly trying to picture the distraught young Russian approaching Jim. “No wonder he was shocked.”

“I think we damn near turned his world upside-down for a moment there,” Jim chuckled. “He’s a good kid though.”

“It _is_ very touching that he would step up and say something,” Spock agreed. “I did not know he would hold my feelings for Nyota in such high regard. It would have taken confidence to confront you. You are his superior officer, after all, and we all know how much he admires you.”

Jim waved a hand, looking flattered.

“Well I’m a damn amazing Captain, why wouldn’t he love me?” he teased. “Handsome, intelligent, hilarious, quick on my feet, _humble…”_

Nyota rolled her eyes.

“Back to the issue at hand,” she said firmly, seeming to refocus. “You told him about us?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Jim shrugged apologetically. “It was either that or have him spread round half the ship that we were having an affair. He may have even gone to Spock if he thought it was really that important. And we know Spock wouldn’t lie. The truth seemed like the best option.”

“How _much_ did you tell him?”

“Uh, just that we were together. And then he _asked_ about Bones, so I had to come clean about our plans for him to join us in the future.”

“Hmm,” Nyota shook her head again, sighed. “I guess there was nothing else you really could have said. At least he’ll have his facts straight when he spreads the news around the rest of the crew.”

“What do you mean?” Spock asked.

“Well, it’s just our luck, isn’t it?” she said. “The one person who spots us is the biggest gossip on the ship.”

“You don’t think he would tell anyone?” Spock seemed confused at what his motivation might be.

“I think he’ll be well intentioned,” Nyota amended. “But this is, unfortunately, really juicy news. There’s no way he doesn’t let it slip to someone. Then it will spread like wildfire till the whole crew knows. That’s the power of the confined living spaces of a starship.”

“Fuck,” Jim said. “You’re right.”

Spock looked between them.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he said slowly. “Eventually, in the future, the crew would have found out anyway. I admit it is not ideal to place the strain of the public eye on such a new relationship, but this is not the same as any other relationship. This is _our_ relationship. I believe we have proven so far that we can outlast and overcome anything set against us. A simple matter of gossip will barely be an impairment.”

“Spock,” Jim said, beaming, “that may be one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard you say,”

“He has his moments,” Nyota agreed, affection all over her face.

Spock looked between them, trying to look poised even though he was flushing slightly.

“I am simply being… logical.”

“Yes, and we both think it’s very cute.”

Before Spock could protest any further, Jim leaned in a gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Now, as much as I’d like to stay and watch you be adorable,” he said. “I should really be getting to the Bridge.”

“I’ll join you,” Nyota said, standing. “We should try and get some work done before the stares and whispering begin.”

…

It took almost a full week for Chekhov to break: a personal record in abstaining from gossip.

In fact, when he broke the first time, it barely counted as letting the secret slip. The very first person he told (looking like he was about to burst at the seams if he didn’t talk to _someone)_ was Sulu, and Sulu already knew. With his encouragement, Chekhov managed to last a few extra days on top of his original time. Nine days altogether. Having another person to nudge and wink at when he noticed odd behaviour on the Bridge between Uhura and Kirk made it a lot easier to cope with being the only person aware of it.

But then there were drinks in one of the ship’s common rooms after a particularly exciting discovery, and Chekhov was tipsy. And the people he was sitting with were all so _cute._ And Jayla was looking at him with her head tilted to one side like she _knew_ he was hiding something. And for goodness sake, the only gossip circulating at the time was that Keenser and Scotty weren’t speaking to each other again. Chekhov couldn’t help himself. He wanted to provide more entertainment.

“Hey everyone, shush,” he said to the table, raising his hand for silence rather over-dramatically. “You guys know the bet we have about the Captain and his many lovers?”

“You have bets about James T and his lovers?” Jayla asked, eyebrow quirked. She was still new to the ship, and clearly hadn’t picked up on all their little rituals yet.

“Pretty much everyone has at least one bet about that,” said Cameron, one of the ship’s science officers, a smirk on his face. “The theory pretty much goes that Kirk would jump at the chance to fuck almost all of his closest friends.”

“Not _all_ of them,” the red-shirt named Jehan interrupted, looking nervous as always, checking over his shoulder in case any of the people in question would hear him. “We just think he likes McCoy, Spock, and Uhura.”

“Or just Spock,” someone else said.

“Spock _and_ Uhura.”

“No, it’s totally only him and Bones,” argued another.

Before the discussion could continue, Chekhov waved a hand.

“Yes, you all have different bets,” he said. “But seriously, listen to-”

“Wait,” Jayla asked, puzzled. “Obviously, James T loves them all. Are they not together already?”

The table laughed, and she looked even more bewildered.

“Easy mistake to make,” Cameron chuckled. “But no, technically, they’re not together. It’s just a whole lot of pining.”

Before Jayla could voice more of her confusion, Chekhov cleared his throat.

“Guys, _listen_ to what I’m trying to say,” he said. “I know the truth about who likes each other.”

“What?” Cameron asked.

“How do _you_ know?” said Jehan.

“I saw them,” Chekhov looked smug.

There was a momentary pause, and then the table exploded into questions.

…

Nyota, Spock, and Jim were still sneaking around for three days after their secret leaked. They were blissfully ignorant of the stares and whispers and exasperated fondness of their crew mates pretending to believe the excuses they came up with to visit Spock in the med bay almost every few hours.

Then, the day before Spock was meant to be discharged, Hikaru knocked on Nyota’s door. She opened it only after asking who was standing on the other side, and when she let him in, it quickly became apparent why. Jim was with her, lounging shirtless on her couch in soft pyjama bottoms.

“Hey, Sulu,” he said, straightening up.

“Hello,” Hikaru said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“That’s okay, we don’t mind.” Nyota assured him.

“You look worried,” Jim observed.

“Yeah, I, um, have something I need to tell you both.”

“Please, take a seat,” Nyota said, gesturing.

Hikaru sat gingerly on a chair, facing the two of them. They looked so content, so unaware of all the drama outside their door, and he sighed.

“You know how I told you Chekhov confessed your secret to me about a week ago?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Nyota said.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he started telling other people.”

“Fuck,” Jim said. “Seriously?”

“I overheard someone gossiping about it at dinner today, so I’d say the news has broken.”

“Damn it,” Nyota grimaced. “I guess he lasted longer than we actually expected he would.”

“Yeah, almost two weeks,” Jim said, grudgingly impressed. “Must be a record for him.”

“I think he might have let it slip three days ago,” Hikaru provided helpfully. “When everyone was having drinks to celebrate that new planet. You know how loose-lipped he gets when he’s tipsy.”

“Makes sense,” Nyota sighed. “So, the whole ship knows?”

“Not yet,” Hikaru said. “But the rumours are certainly going around now.”

Nyota and Jim seemed more resigned than anything else.

“It was only a matter of time,” Jim concluded. “I mean we would have told them eventually, in the future. We would have asked for a shared room or something. They had to find out.”

 “I just hope Leonard doesn’t hear before we get a chance to tell him ourselves,” Nyota said nervously. “I don’t think that would end well.”

“Please, it’s Bones,” Jim laughed. “He’ll be the last to hear any gossip.”

They all smiled.

“Yeah, at least that’s true.”

“Thanks for telling us, Hikaru.” Nyota smiled at him.

“No problem. I’m happy to help.”

They ushered him out the door a little while later, and turned to each other in the empty room.

“Well,” Jim said. “I say we sneak down to the med bay early tomorrow and let Spock know. We’ll have to start making plans to ask out Bones before things get too crazy.”


	9. Stage Eight: Confusion

 

The morning Spock was going to be discharged from the med bay, Bones woke up early in a very bad mood. He would never admit it – in fact, he would outright deny it if anyone asked – but he was really going to miss the spending every day with the Commander. Their time together had been frustrating, full of small squabbles, and several times even medically stressful, but it had also been interesting, and engaging, and generally fantastic.

Bones knew it was stupid to be so shaken by the change in his new routine. Spock would still come back in for regular check-ups in the wake of his recovery, and Bones would see him around the ship with as much frequency as he always had. It wasn’t as if he was losing the other man entirely. It wasn’t as though Spock was _abandoning_ him.

Besides, Spock was happy to be heading back to work, and Bones would never in a million years advocate for something that would make him miserable. He knew the half-Vulcan had been bored half to tears just lying in a hospital bed all day feeling weak, shivery, and feverish. He should not be secretly longing for those times to continue.

He glared at his own reflection in the mirror while he pulled on his uniform.

“That’s what happens when you fall for your best friends,” he told himself sternly.

The reflection only glowered back, unresponsive.

“You turn into a crazy person talking to your empty bathroom.”

He left quickly for work, eager to get out of his messy, empty room and spend the last morning he could in the med bay with Spock.

He was surprised to find that Spock was not the only one there when he arrived. Around the bed, Nyota and Jim sat very close, engaged in rapid conversation. Uncertain, Bones hovered in the doorway for a moment. Spock was frowning, shaking his head, and trying to interrupt the hyper flow of whatever Jim was saying to him.

“No, Jim, really,” his deep voice carried to where Bones stood in the doorway. Jim had been talking to fast and low for him to make out the words. “I think your ideas border on excessive, especially if we plan to do this by tomorrow night. We should temper the dramatic with the sincere if we want him to understand-”

Suddenly, Nyota’s eyes met Bones’ in the doorway, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Hello, Leonard!” she said rather loudly. The men at her side quietened instantly, turned to face the Doctor with equally bright smiles.

“There a party going on in here no one told me about?” Bones asked.

“No,” Jim laughed, voice slightly too cheerful. “I just wanted to give Spock a little update on what he’ll be doing when he comes back to work today.”

“Okay,” Bones said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, that’s fine, we were leaving anyway.” Jim was already walking toward the door. “We’ll talk to you later, Spock?”

“Yes, I’ll see you soon,” Spock agreed.

Nyota gave him a quick kiss on the temple and then swept out of the med bay after Jim, shooting an explosive overwhelming smile in Bones’ direction. Bones cleared his throat, covered his sudden blush with a frown.

“Well, Spock, let’s go over everything and get you discharged.”

“I would like nothing more,” Spock said.

…

After Spock left, the med bay felt awfully quiet. In the room next door, intended for less serious one-off patients, Bones could hear a couple of his nurses chatting. They had been handing out a few cures for a flu recently, illness still lingering in the ship since someone picked it up during their stop in Yorktown, but otherwise things had been fairly uneventful. He hoped at the next planet they might at least discover some more medical research to liven up the journey.

And then he realised what the nurses were talking about, and all other thoughts fled his mind. He stood frozen in shock, head tipped to one side, as he listened intently to the tail end of their conversation.

“… no, I’m telling you, it was Spock and Kirk!” Ahmed said empathically, his voice insistent. “Literally unmistakable.”

“I know there have been _rumours_ about it,” the second nurse, Su, sounded more sceptical, “But there is _no way_ they would do that in the middle of the med bay!”

“They did!” Ahmed argued. “I _saw_ them. Pretty sure they thought it was safe. I mean, McCoy was on break for dinner, and even though I was assigned to duty, they would have expected me to stay in this room.”

“That’s so risky though.” Su seemed scandalised. “I can’t even imagine _Spock_ just making out with the Captain _in public._ ”

“I wish _I_ couldn’t imagine it.” Despite what he was saying, Ahmed sounded delighted. “I’ve been scarred for life. Although, actually, I was quite surprised to see that Kirk was on top. Maybe it’s just because Spock is too sick to be up to-”

“Ew, oh my god, shut up,” Su protested. “Don’t want to hear about it.”

“Sorry,” Ahmed said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Urgh, you’re so smug.” She was clearly exasperated, but amused, fascinated despite herself. “Bet you’re happy you have something to add to the gossip train.”

“I’m delighted for any chance to catch the attention of Pavel Chekhov,” Ahmed said. They both laughed, and the conversation moved on.  

Bones still stood frozen in the middle of the room, the tricorder from Spock’s last examination still dangling from his hand.

Just moments ago, his mind had been consumed with the yawning absence left in Spock’s wake. Now all he could think of was the breath-taking image of Spock and Jim _making out_ right there in the med bay.

Slightly shaky legged, Bones slumped down onto the nearest chair. His breath came a little harder. He couldn’t quite process what he had just heard. Ahmed _must_ have been telling the truth. The kid never lied: he had a face like an open book, and to make up something so outrageous would be pointless. Besides, Su had said that there were already _rumours_ about it, which meant there was more than just Ahmed’s word behind it.

It made sense, too, that there would be something between Jim and Spock. There were countless occasions when Bones had seen glimpses of a bond beyond friendship. They relied on each other. They _needed_ each other and much as Bones needed them. And though the doctor had repeatedly shoved the thoughts from his mind, refused to dwell on them, insisted that it must be all wishful thinking on his part, he couldn’t deny, now, that he had always seen the affection they had. Some part of him had _wanted_ to see that affection become a romantic connection. Some part of him had secretly longed to be involved in it.

It would have been like a fantasy come true, if it wasn’t for the growing suspicion in the back of Bones’ mind.

Why had the nurses not mentioned Nyota? Why would Jim never have told Bones, his best friend, about the start of a relationship that probably made him feel happy and complete? The only reason would be if his make-out sessions with Spock were meant to be a secret. And the only reason they would be a secret would be if Spock was _cheating_ on Nyota.

Nyota, who smiled like the sun. Nyota, with her fierce intelligence and unapologetic passionate spirit. Nyota, who had kissed Spock so gently when she left the room that morning.

The idea that Spock would ever cheat on her was unimaginable. And yet, it seemed, that was exactly what he was doing. Somehow, he had become so caught up in his desire for Jim that he was going behind his girlfriend’s back. And Bones found himself quickly overtaken by a fury the likes of which he had felt very few times in his life. It was like someone had taken his most secret fantasy and twisted it: made it an ugly, awful thing.

The only thing that tempered his rage was the fact that, under it all, he loved Spock. He loved Jim. Despite himself, he wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Bones clenched and unclenched his fists, and decided what he wanted to do next.

…

Spock needed a quick check-up before he went to bed that night, mostly to make sure he had managed okay on his feet, so he parted from Nyota and walked down to the med bay. He was feeling so much better just being able to be up and about, but he kind of missed the doctor already. He was beyond relieved that he, Jim, and Nyota had decided to ask Leonard out the next day. He was almost _giddy._ In fact, he couldn’t even keep the smile off his face, the slightest pleased upturn of the lips that gave away emotion stronger than anything he usually allowed to show.

It was shocking when the mood was broken the second he entered the med bay.

“ _Spock_ ,” Bones glowered. “Shut the door behind you.”

“You do not look happy, Doctor McCoy,” Spock said carefully, surprised by the animosity radiating off him. He shut the door just as he was asked though.

“I’m not happy,” Bones agreed. “Sit down.”

Spock did as he was asked, sinking into the indicated chair. Bones immediately began his examination, knuckles white over the tricorder as he analysed Spock’s health. Usually he would accompany it with chatter, with an explanation of what he was doing. He knew the half-Vulcan appreciated it, enjoyed trying to keep up with even the most difficult medical terminology. Today, however, Bones was silent. And Spock couldn’t work out why.

“Stop moving,” Bones snapped.

Spock realised with embarrassment that he had been shifting in his seat to better see the doctor’s face. He quickly turned back, feeling heat rise to his face, glad when he heard the soft, affirmative beats of the monitors that meant the exam was finished.

“Looks like you’re fine. Perfectly healthy.” Bones spoke short sharp sentences. There was a quivering, confusing rage beneath his voice.

“Are you alright?” Spock asked.

The doctor’s eyes whipped up to meet his, buried under the deep frown on his face. Spock could see the way his jaw tightened.

“I’m fine,” Bones ground out.

“You do not look-”

“I’m _fine._ ”

Spock fell silent again. He felt embarrassingly uncertain around such raw emotion: out of his depth, bewildered. Especially when he couldn’t decipher what might have triggered the wet tears in Bones’ eyes, the shaky anger in his tone.

“Leonard, if something is the matter, I would hope that you felt confident in speaking to me about it,” Spock ventured.

Bones took a deep, heavy breath, closed his eyes for a moment.

“I wanted to address this when I was- when I felt calmer,” he admitted slowly. “In fact I was starting to feel calmer until, fuck, until you walked in and I-”

Spock was really concerned now. He stood up, laid a gentle hand on Bones arm. Bones eyes flew open, he jerked out of reach. He ground his teeth again.

“You’re angry with me?” Spock queried.

Finally, Bones seemed to break. He made a frustrated noise, waved a hand in Spock’s direction.

“Obviously, I’m fucking- I’m fucking angry with- I can’t believe- god damn it Spock, I can’t believe you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You fucking cheated on Nyota!” Bones exploded. Spock blinked at him in absolute amazement. The doctor pointed an accusing finger. “Don’t try to deny it. You were making out with Jim in the middle of the damn med bay! Do you have any idea how stupid you’re being? Everything you might be throwing away? What it might do to _her_ when she finds out? She doesn’t _deserve_ that Spock. My god, what were you thinking?”

Spock tried to formulate the words, tried to think of an answer. But he found himself at a loss, no clue how to respond to the sudden tirade. Somehow, some way, Bones knew he had been kissing Jim the day before. And somehow, he had completely misinterpreted everything about the interaction. Just as Chekhov had.

Faced with Spock’s frozen astonishment, Bones seemed to become even more infuriated. He tossed aside the tricorder in his hand, focused entirely on yelling.

“I don’t even know what possessed Jim to let himself get caught up in all of this. He’ll be getting a earful later, I _promise_ you. Were neither of you thinking about Nyota? Did you ever stop to _consider_ her feelings? You fucking- you green-blooded _fool._ You viper in a damned chicken coop. You _fucking asshole!”_

Bones was growing red in the face, waving his arms as he shouted. Dimly, Spock was aware that he should say something. He should respond. Put a stop to this. But his thoughts didn’t whir as fast and succinct as usual. He was exhausted from sickness, and surprised, and overwhelmed, and suddenly, the mood swooping over him out of nowhere, absolutely fascinated by the fury in Bones.

The doctor was still yelling at him, his silence apparently no deterrent, but Spock was no longer listening. He was watching the rise of colour in Bones’ face. He was observing the way his eyes were shining with emotion. He was interested most of all in the righteous indignation, the obvious personal investment, the sense of betrayal that seemed stronger than what a friend might feel, the passion that lit the face he loved so much. Nyota had been right. Bones had feelings for them. Strong feelings.

Spock always enjoyed debates with Bones. He enjoyed their parry back and forth, their disagreements, their different stances. He always respected the bare unbridled zeal the other man was willing to show; he advocated, always, for humanity, for compassion, kindness, respect, a loving value for all life. Despite his gruff exterior, he could never do anything less than care whole-heartedly _._ And Spock loved it. Spock had always loved it. It was compelling, and beautiful, and balanced out his own calculation in a way that, when he thought about it, or when Nyota and Jim talked about it, sent a shiver down his spine.

 “And even that fact that other people on the ship know,” Bones was saying. “I mean, geez, Nyota could find out any moment. How much will that break her heart? To hear from someone else that-”

Spock, maintaining the intense, examining quiet he had kept up so far, stepped suddenly forward, just a small arms-length apart, and Bones cut off in the middle of his sentence.

“Are you even listening to me?” he demanded, folding his arms over his chest. His face grew darker red, his blush matching the quickening beat of his heart.

Spock nodded vaguely, not particularly convincingly, and stepped even closer. He reached out a hand and his firm gentle fingers slid under the broad curve of Bones’ jaw.

“Spock, what the hell-” Bones attempted to speak again. But he didn’t move, and his vitriol had flattened, softened, a breathlessness pulling the end of the sentence into nothingness.

“Leonard, I apologise, but I must admit I did not take in the majority of your chastisement. You may have to repeat the scolding on the later occasion.”

“Spock-”

“There is simply something fascinating about your anger; it’s like a sign of how much you care. I had never thought of it this way before.”

For the first time, Bones’ brain seemed to catch up with him, and he rather noticeably realised that the intense focus of Spock’s dark eyes was fixed on his lips. His mouth parted in a faint breath of surprise.

Spock hummed in unconstrained interest, and carefully, slowly, making sure Bones had every chance to pull away, to protest, he closed the gap between them. He pressed a deliberate, precise kiss to his lips.

…

It took Bones a moment to unfreeze his startled joints, to move again.

_Trust Spock,_ he thought as he relaxed into the embrace, surrendering his fury to the soft touch of the other man, _trust Spock to lose control and kiss someone in the most calculated way possible. He can’t even get caught up in his feelings like a normal person would._

He let Spock’s long fingers guide him into an angled, open-mouthed moment that surprised him in its passion. And then he felt his annoyance trickling back in: annoyed at this ridiculous half-Vulcan who could frustrate him to the point of breaking and then have the audacity to pull him out of his anger with a damn _kiss._ A kiss he felt like he had been waiting for his entire life. A kiss that destroyed the flow of his fury and made him completely doubt the reason he had been angry in the first place.

He was missing something. He knew now that he was missing something big. And yet, in that moment, it didn’t seem important to have it explained. All that seemed important was the idea of melting into Spock and never letting go.

His hands came up to pull Spock closer at the waist, fisting in his shirt, pressing their bodies together.

_God damn,_ Bones thought, every nerve on fire, _the number of times I’ve dreamt about just grabbing Spock in the middle of an argument and kissing the breath out of him right then and there. And_ Spock _is the one who gets the confidence to do it? In the most Spock-ish way possible? God damn._

Finally, Spock pulled away, and Bones let out an embarrassing, indignant noise of protest as the outlet for all his building angst was taken away.

“I have to apologise again, Leonard.” Spock looked suddenly mortified, stiff with embarrassment in that over-compensating way of his. As though he regretted so rashly expressing any emotion. “I think I had been holding that back for too long, and I could no longer stop myself.”

He backed away suddenly, eyes flickering round the room, face growing warm and turning green.

“I should go,” he burst out.

And then, Bones still standing still and stunned in the middle of the room, Spock fled out of the door without a backward glance.

“Spock!” Bones yelled, slightly too late, one hand extended as if he would catch him. “Don’t leave without fucking explaining.”

But it was too late. Spock was gone. And Bones swore one more time under his breath.

_Trust Spock,_ he thought again, _to force me to be the one to chase him down._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for sticking with the story so long. We're getting closer to the end now, and the last bit of this chapter is the one chapter I had solidly in my mind from the very beginning. I really hope you enjoy it! Please keep those comments coming. I love them, and all of you :)


	10. Stage Nine: Completion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry I vanished for a while there. I lost my beta reader, so this may have more typos than usual, but here goes the second last chapter...

Nyota was expecting a relaxing evening. Jim was coming over later, and all three of them were completing their plan to ask Bones out the next day. She nursed a mug of steaming tea in one hand, an e-reader propped against her knees as she curled comfortably on the couch. Just as she glanced up to check the time, wondering when Spock would return from the med bay, her boyfriend burst through the door so suddenly that she flinched back. Her tea upended, sending scalding liquid down the front of her pyjamas, and a stream of swear words from her mouth.

“Spock, what the-”

“Jim isn’t with you?” Spock asked, gaze darting around, looking almost wild.

“No,” concern rose, and she abandoned her attempt at patting herself dry. “He wasn’t coming over for another half an-”

Spock strode to the communications screen on the wall and dialled Jim’s quarters with a shaky hand.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Jim greeted, smiling ear to ear as he answered the call. He was shirtless, Nyota noticed, but she had no time to appreciate it. She hovered uncertainly at Spock’s side. “What can I do for you?”

“Jim, you have to come over now,” Spock said hurriedly. “I have something important to tell you both. I made an awful mistake.”

Jim looked at him in shock for a moment, gauging how serious the situation was. Then his face fell.

“Shit, Spock,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

Spock’s shoulders barely loosened as Jim cut the connection. Nyota reached a hand out and lead him carefully to the couch. He seemed glad to be guided, and as soon as they sat, he tucked himself against her side, cheek on her shoulder.

“Spock, what happened?” she said carefully.

He shook his head.

“Wait for Jim.”

So she smoothed his hair back, kissed his forehead, and they waited.

…

Jim didn’t bother to knock when he arrived at Spock and Nyota’s shared quarters. Luckily, they had added him to the lock system on the door a few days ago, so he could let himself in without waiting for them to answer. He had been delayed enough just shrugging a shirt back on before sprinting down the corridor to get there.

He found them on the couch, Spock ashen, clearly shaken.

“Spock, what the hell happened?” he asked, dropping to the floor in front of them. He had just enough time to exchange a worried look with Nyota, to see her helpless shrug, her indication that she knew as little as he did, and then Spock began to explain.

“I kissed Leonard.”

The following silence was striking. Pictures filled Jim’s mind immediately, catching him up in his imagination: the image of Spock’s tall frame pressing Bones into a kiss, lips together, bodies close. The intensity of the two men drawn into one embrace.

He realised his mouth hung open, and he snapped it shut, shaking himself back to reality, where Spock kissing Bones was perhaps not the best thing.

“Um, honey, _how_ did you kiss him?” Nyota asked tentatively.

Spock’s eyes were even darker than usual, guilty.

“I could not stop myself. Despite all of our plans, I simply- I know we intended for honesty and openness and… I... just lost control.”

“W-hen did this-” Jim paused. “ _How_ did this-”

“My medical exam was sufficiently derailed from its original purpose,” Spock said. He seemed a fraction calmer now, initial confession off his chest. “I could tell something was wrong with Leonard, so I asked if he was alright, and he exploded. He believed that I was cheating on you, Nyota: cheating on you with Jim.”

Jim almost laughed. Twice, the same mistake had been made. Was he really so notorious for sleeping around?

“What?” Nyota began. “How did he know there was anything between you two?”

“I do not know every detail,” Spock confessed. “There was a great deal of shouting, but I did not listen to all of it. Leonard seemed to have found out that Jim and I kissed in the med bay. Whether he saw us himself, or someone else saw us and the news got back to him...”

Jim waited, but the sentence trailed into nothingness.

“So _why_ did you kiss him?” he prompted.

“I had to,” Spock groaned. “He was so indignant. His face was flushed and his voice went all gravelly and I- I had to.”

“You lost control?” Jim said, smirk quickly taking over his concern. “How very human of you.”

“How very cute,” Nyota laughed, pressing a kiss to Spock’s neck.

“This is not cute,” Spock protested. “This is serious. I _kissed_ him. I ruined the plan. I _ran_ out of there without explaining.”

Jim felt his smile falter.

“Wait, you- you _ran_ out of there?”

“I apologised and left the room!” Spock said, throwing his hands up. “I had no idea what to do!”

“As in… Bones is still…. Standing there? With no idea what happened?” Jim ventured.

Spock froze, looked between them.

“I- I did not know what to do,” he repeated, agonised. “I wanted to tell you what had happened and I needed to get out of there and cool off. I never intended to- I never wanted to confuse him- I- I don’t know what to say.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for,” Jim said. “Is ‘fuck’.”

“Fuck,” Spock repeated whole-heartedly, adopting the swear word. “Fuck _.”_

Nyota laughed softly, a moment of relieved stress, and kissed him gently again.

“Spock, it’s okay,” she said. “We can work this out.”

“Actually,” Jim reached out, taking Spock’s hand in his own. “I have an idea. If I know Bones like I think I do, I believe we can still salvage the situation…”

…

Bones did not go very far in his attempt to chase after Spock. He was feeling weak kneed and confused, and after walking the length of two corridors, he lost the motivation. Fists clenched, he paced back and forth for a moment, realising he wouldn’t even know where to begin a conversation. He needed advice. He needed someone who wasn’t involved in the situation. He needed-

Like a gift of providence, Scotty appeared at the end of the corridor. His friend was in a totally different world, unstressed, unhurried, humming while he walked. He had a donut in his hand, and a satisfied smile on his face. Bones grabbed him immediately.

“Scotty, thank god! Do you have time to talk?” he asked. “I’m losing my damn mind over here.”

Scotty looked startled: almost comical, mouth covered in powdered sugar as it was.

“Bones?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Bones glanced up and down the corridor before speaking. Lingering out of earshot, a couple of young red shirts were watching them with interest, but as soon as he made eye contact, they skittered off around the next corner.

“Spock fucking kissed me,” he said.

Scotty’s mouth dropped open. He let out a shocked laugh.

“Holy shit? Are you serious?” he asked.

Bones threw up his hand, taking a step back.

“Yes, I’m serious,” he snapped.

Scotty stuffed the rest of his donut into his mouth, chewed it happily, dusted his hands off on his pants. “Well that’s bloody fantastic, isn’t it?”

Bones _stared_ at him.

“No. No it is not.”

Scotty was bewildered now.

“Why’s it not?”

“Because!” Bones said. “Because I heard he had been kissing Jim, and I thought he must be _cheating_ on Nyota. So I confronted him, and instead of damn well explaining what the hell was going on, he _kissed me!_ ”

“So much for no drama,” Scotty said, sounding a little awed. “There’s no way Spock lost control like that?”

“He did.”

“Did he not explain after-”

“He ran out of the room!” Bones was almost shouting.

Scotty laughed again. He couldn’t help himself.

“That’s some real soap opera stuff, my friend,” he said.

“You think I’m not aware?” Bones raked a hand back through his hair. “What the hell am I meant to do? I sure as fuck don’t know what’s going on! Is Spock trying to shut me up or- or is he- fuck, I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“I think I do,” Scotty said, still sparkling with amusement.

“I’ve told you before not to be so cryptic.”

“No, no, it’s not my place to talk to you about this.” Scotty held up his hands. “You need to find Spock yourself. Tell him how you feel.”

“ _Tell_ him?” Bones was incredulous. “I don’t want him to think- I don’t want to go behind Nyota’s back- it was bad enough that Jim-”

“I’m serious, Bones.”

“Damn it Scotty, I’m a doctor, not a fucking back alley consort!”

Scotty laughed again. “Never thought I’d be talking about the sex life of _Spock._ ”

“I’m serious,” Bones growled.

“So am I. Go find Spock.”

Scotty levelled eye contact with him. There was the longest breath of pause. Bones deflated.

“I was on my way to,” he admitted. “But I realised I can’t- I can’t start this conversation.”

“Trust me,” Scotty repeated one more time. “Go find Spock.”

Bones let out a breath, and he went.

…

He arrived outside the door to Spock’s quarters feeling like machinery wound too tight, ready to uncurl. The two names on the door sent a pang of confusing emotion through him. Taking a deep breath, he pressed a finger to the buzzer, and waited for someone to let him in.

A minute passed, and no one answered. No one even opened an intercom channel to tell him to go away. He pressed the button a second time.

Still, there was no indication of a reply. They may not even have been inside. Shoulders slumped, Bones readied himself to leave, to search the ship for Spock instead. But a last impulse grabbed him before he could go, a likely useless attempt.

He pressed the pad of his thumb to the lock system as if it would let him inside.

The door slid open with a quiet _whoosh_.

Bones jumped back a step, startled. He let out a shaky breath, peered inside. That was new. Since when had he been verified to open this door? It was dark in the main living area, but he stepped slowly across the threshold, the distant sound of soft music reaching his ears.

“Spock?” he called nervously.

There was no response. The gentle plunk of piano continued.

“N-Nyota?”

Nothing.

Bones hesitated for a moment, suspicion creeping over him. Tentatively, he tried one more thing.

“Jim?”

Still, no one stepped out to answer him. The living space was tidy, stylish, and empty: no sign that anyone was around. And then Bones picked up the faintest hint of voices, a whispered undercurrent, all coming from the bedroom. He flushed immediately, feeling intrusive.

Yet the voices didn’t sound intimate. It was the casual tone of normal conversation. Besides, he had _tried_ to announce his presence. And for some reason, the door had not been set to prevent him front entering.

Still very red in the face, Bones made his choice. He strode across the room, and opened the bedroom door. The sight that met his eyes froze him where he stood, blush becoming something more like a tangible, audible pulse beating against his skin.

Spock, Jim, and Nyota straightened up the moment he entered. Their faces fell into shock at the sight of him. He took them in one by one, three stunning figures in their own ways; Spock seemed taller than usual in a navy cable sweater hugging tight to the strength of his frame, a box of tiny tealight candles in his hand; Nyota was standing in front of a mirror in velvet leggings and a tank top which showed the muscles shifting in her arms, brushing the long dark hair falling loose across her shoulders; Jim was brightest sunshine in warm red contrasted to the softness of gold in his hair, lighting candles in Spock’s wake.

The room was half arranged for a romantic evening. There was a plate of cheese set out on the table, a blown glass decanter of red wine and a bottle of Bones’ favourite liquor standing beside it.

Bones, throat dry, managed to speak.

“What’s going on?”

Nyota collected herself first, set down her brush, took a nervous step toward him. Her dark tresses shifted over her shoulders, and Bones breath caught in his throat. He had never seen her with all her hair down before, newly brushed and shiny.

“Sorry,” she said, “We didn’t think you’d be here so soon. We were still getting everything ready.”

Jim nodded in affirmation, fondness in his eyes. Spock simply stood in one spot, rooted to the ground, eyes smouldering.

“For what exactly?” Bones heart was hammering. He tried not to imagine what this might be, nearly not daring to ask.

“For us to ask you a question,” Jim said.

Bones raised a brow, trying to keep his cool, certain at this point that his face must be glowing. He was pretty sure his usual grouchy, suspicious veneer was failing him.

There was a long nervous pause. Spock twitched, stepped forward.

“We would like you to consider entering into a polyamorous relationship with the three of us.”

The air in the room felt heavy. Bones nearly choked on it. Spock’s voice was so full of sincere formality, hopefulness. Nyota’s warm eyes crinkled at the edges, her smile soft as an embrace. Jim’s eyebrows pulled up into the most dopey, puppy-like pleading expression.

Bones felt like his knees were about to give out. A strange cloud had been lifted, like he finally understood something: the real purpose of the universe laid out before him, a home in the vast mess of space. He looked between the three stunning beauties, all of whom filled different parts of his life in perfect ways: in ways he had longed for. Tears came to his eyes.

He cleared his throat, a rough sound, full of emotion.

“I’ll give it a go,” he said.

No words were enough, and certainly not those ones, but he was in shock. He was unprepared to spout appropriate poetry, and it wasn’t his style to do so anyway.

Jim whooped like a child and launched into his arms, as always reckless and bold in his affection. One hand wrapped around Bones’ waist, the other tucked under his chin, and he lifted him half off his feet with the enthusiasm of the kiss.

It felt like everything Bones had missed. It felt like coming home.

By the time they broke away, Spock and Uhura had joined them, both beaming. Jim slid effortlessly to the side, arm still wrapped around Bone’s waist, gazing at him with his heart in his eyes. Spock planted a firm, whisper of a kiss to his lips, a fervent echo of everything they had shared in the med  bay less than an hour before.  Then the half Vulcan stepped off to the other side, his arm joined Jim’s around Bones’ back, and Uhura stepped forward, pushed up on tiptoes, and pressed the most gentle kiss first to the tip of his nose, then to his mouth.

It was a beginning, a promise.

He never thought he could feel so comfortable with a sensation so much like floating unbound into the endless eddies of space.


End file.
